My Precious Son

My Precious Son
14 Feb
2017

Unendingly I mourn my precious son
Too early yet this earthly home he left,
Perfidious sleep confounded nature's order
To leave his loves perpetually bereft.

Those golden dreams and aspirations,
The seed of yesterday a withered bloom,
Those baubles which are cause to celebrate
In death now mock us gently from his tomb.

How treacherous death does steal on youth's exuberance,
To wreak such havoc from the ecstasy of life,
Where once was only joy and future promise
Tormented hearts endure eternal strife.

  • Inside Our Dreams
    Where do people go to when they die? Somewhere down below or in the sky? 'I can't be sure,' said Grandad, 'but it seems They simply set up home inside our dreams.'