Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
TerryCollettPoems
All that way and all that time, and still we never got to bring you home, my son. We left you where you lay most of the day until the end came quite suddenly out of the blue and we lost you. Looking back I imagine there was more I could have done, more I should have seen, but the councillor said it was just the mind playing tricks: you can't have know what was wrong and even the medical team had no clue what it was or what to do until it was too late, and you were wrecked, my son, through their neglect. I wish we had talked more that day, had discussed the whole panorama of the day, but we sat and talked now and then as time went past us as we sat, and that sadly was that. Time has flown. The grief of losing you retains its hold, the memory of those long days and the loss remain and hurt, and darkness comes and plants its seeds on which my Black Dog feeds. All that way and time and you gone and me here listening to the tides of time flow by and those dark grey clouds in the sky.
0
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
ALL THAT WAY.
All that way and all that time, and still we never got to bring you home, my son. We left you where you lay most of the day until the end came quite suddenly out of the blue and we lost you. Looking back I imagine there was more I could have done, more I should have seen, but the councillor said it was just the mind playing tricks: you can't have know what was wrong and even the medical team had no clue what it was or what to do until it was too late, and you were wrecked, my son, through their neglect. I wish we had talked more that day, had discussed the whole panorama of the day, but we sat and talked now and then as time went past us as we sat, and that sadly was that. Time has flown. The grief of losing you retains its hold, the memory of those long days and the loss remain and hurt, and darkness comes and plants its seeds on which my Black Dog feeds. All that way and time and you gone and me here listening to the tides of time flow by and those dark grey clouds in the sky.
A FATHER TALKS TO HIS DEAD SON.
#father#son#grief
TerryCollett
Written by
TerryCollett
78/M
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem