There were days, hours, minutes,
Then just moments, to hold onto,
As our boy’s tired body set
Its course upon death.
It was the only direction then,
As the mechanics of respiration,
Passing as life, lost interest,
Counting out their mere pretense of living.
Days before, he strode in from Kevin’s
So full of life, so full of anticipation,
Tomorrow another friend, Friday his elder brother
He greeted his mother and sister with that smile.
But his time here with us ran faster than we knew:
The ringing of the phone, the hospital, and all lost.
– Jeffrey Sinclair