
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