Monday 16th November

.

The road ahead isn’t straight

And nor is it brightly lit

It twists and turns unevenly

Stumbling when those memories hit

.

Sometimes the path leads to a beach

With the brightest, sparkling sea

Golden sand, soft underfoot

And palm trees waving invitingly

.

At times, unexpectedly

A cold, dark tunnel is your route

Your head slides in a tailspin

The pain of loss, just so acute

.

And I miss you so

Dearest Angel son

xxxxx