The dwindling days fly past and I remain,
Though freighted by regrets and photographs.
The errors and the losses a refrain
Repeating, repeating; then someone laughs,

Returns me to the moment with a smile.
This child, with vast bright future all before,
Oblivious to older cares will while
Away the hours (seeming infinite); more

I cannot ask: the truth I cannot say.
A child knows both much more and less than I.
The moment past, the truth I cannot stay;
Regrets in hand, I wander home and sigh.

Death is a secret.  No one speaks his name.
But one day we will have to say he came.