Just because you don’t want it to happen, never meant that it won’t. And when it happens, there’s the heart wrenching pain of realising why you never wanted it to happen. That’s as much as I can say about losing a parent.

My mother tugs me through the snow

Her strides are long and I’m just slow

Her hurried pace she’s hard to hold

But her words are warm despite the cold

Once indoors she gets the heater glowing

And sits by the window to see my father coming

On the carpet I’ll run my toy truck

But soon I’ll have to wake up

From seeing myself by her feet

To be weeping in my sleep