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.