by Tony Fallon
I sat there and cried
The awful morning that you died
For weeks we had watched you in distress
While the doctors said there was no progress
Injections, morphine, and pills
No more to return to your home in the hills
No more to look out at the River Shannon
We said prayers nightly with the Cannon
I’m not sure I understood
About God only taking the very good
Why for the good must we say amen?
And leave a husband with sad children
Leaving behind half a loving pair
And at the table an empty chair
No more will you help in the meadows
But on your grave will be a big red rose
Why oh why was it your time
Barely forty in your prime
No more will you feed the lamb or calf
No more shall we hear that hearty laugh
No more shall you hear wild birds sing
Nor teach your children the Highland fling
No more shall you hear the Christmas noise
Of your children opening Santa’s toys
Never will you see a daughter's wedding dress
No grandchildren will you caress
I think that was the day I became aware
That life for some reason is often unfair.
About this poem:
This poem is about my aunt who died in the early '60s leaving nine young children.
Tony Fallon was born in Athlone, Ireland. He has written short stories, poems, and columns in more publications than he can remember since 1962. He has been on Radio for over 40 years in America and Ireland. Many of his poems and songs are on YouTube. He is Poet Laureate of the Cairo NY Public Library and Rensselaerville's Conkling Hall.