Some morning too soon my son will not rise;
Tears and pain will well in those green eyes.
What to do, what to say when asked
Why legs and arms no longer obey?
Will still so strong but the flesh weak;
Look to the horizon for the answers you seek.
Tendons, ligaments, muscle and their nerves will all shrivel
Like the withered roots of a plant parched by drought.
Faith and prayer metamorph as drivel
When the certainties of life are substituted for doubt.
Mother, nurture and tend this delicate soul;
It's the most and least you can do
In this situation so out of control.
The stares get easier to transcend While the stairs grow more difficult to ascend.
And still the last sunset creeps towards day's end.