Son

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A poem written many years ago by my grandfather after his son had passed away.

        SON

It seems only a few years ago a child was born

unaware that later our hearts would be torn

he could see until the age of seven

from then on he was on the way towards heaven

It was near Christmas that fate took a hand

as we had presents wrapped and bound

all was well,we thought at the time

till a knock on the door changed our minds

you see he was in hospital to have a check up

the knock was to tell us he need an op

grim news you'd say it was for us

to him as always he had made no fuss

we did not know till we arrived

a tumour on the brain had be diagnosed

The surgeon who operated came to us

he had little hope so told us thus

the next bombshell he dropped was worst of all

he would be totally blind if he lived at all

the tumour had severed the optic nerve

even that did not dampen his spirit or verve

during the next few weeks we had a glimmer of hope

he appeared to get better and more able to cope

things that he had seen for seven years

were images of the past and he shed no tears

when he came out of hospital it was sheer joy

he learnt to walk again and that was no ploy

no help he would have he did it himself

always independant he needed no help

he felt for the furniture and the gaps too

he knew his way around as well as we do

everything was kept in the same place

so there was no problem,he would find the space

from eight years of age till seventeen

he went to a school called Lickey Grange

how they taught him Braille I can't explain

good thought of that school will always remain

the years had been passing far to soon

a bout of fits was the start of his doom

pains in the neck and down his arm

needed further attention to ease the harm

in the prime of his live he was laid to rest

a symbol of how to suffer and cause no unrest

we shall never forget his courage and grit

a perfect memento to a bright silhouette .

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

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