To Lyn

He'll always be that little baby boy She rocked to sleep to a soft lullaby That little boy who passed on in his prime And did not leave his end to father time. Her Matthew he was only twenty five But he had lost the will that we all need to survive That will that urges us to carry on When we feel that all of our better days are gone. For Lyn the heaviest cross given her to bear And her broken heart will take years to repair And nothing for her that anyone can do Since the grieving process she has to go through. I wish that I could help her in some way But nothing anyone can do or say Could bring back to her, her beloved only son Death is so final and the reaper spares none. He did not live on to be old and gray Perhaps his life not mapped out in that way And his mum and dad and only sister burdened with the cross Of trying to come to terms with their loss.