My Beautiful Boy
They say time heals most every ache,
yet those that utter this have not loved and lost,
or this judgment, they would dare not make.
We take for granted life will be sweet,
if we do our best and help our fellow man,
the pendulum of sorrow...it's ruthless blade, we would not meet.
I know of the grief of which I speak,
for one bright spring day,
darkness came and knew the devastation it would wreak.
He was my life, my heart, my living joy,
and all who knew us would not disagree.
He was my son, my beautiful boy.
His bright smile and quiet ways,
are missed by so many,
through the endless, sorrowful days.
Time does one thing, I will have to concede.
There is no stopping it's relentless pursuit of the next moment,
no matter the hurt, or how much we bleed.
Share This Poem