The family that time forgot
How sad I felt the day I saw the little grave alone
A tiny cross that marked three lives set there on a stone
The story told itself, a tragedy played out.
Twelve years of pain, processed again and again
To put mans faith in God, in doubt
And my mind drifted back to the day,
Was it a nurse who broke the news?
A hospital ward was that the place
Where he couldn’t stand in his shoes?
And did he just go home?
Throw his key there on the table
Did he hold her ring there in his hand
Or was he even able?
He would have stood where I stood now
And looked upon the same ground
But him so numb would not have known
Comfort would never be found
Such a lonely grave
Such a lonely plot
A cross, a stone, a family
The family that time forgot.
Conor Lynch
July 2020
How sad I felt the day I saw the little grave alone
A tiny cross that marked three lives set there on a stone
The story told itself, a tragedy played out.
Twelve years of pain, processed again and again
To put mans faith in God, in doubt
And my mind drifted back to the day,
Was it a nurse who broke the news?
A hospital ward was that the place
Where he couldn’t stand in his shoes?
And did he just go home?
Throw his key there on the table
Did he hold her ring there in his hand
Or was he even able?
He would have stood where I stood now
And looked upon the same ground
But him so numb would not have known
Comfort would never be found
Such a lonely grave
Such a lonely plot
A cross, a stone, a family
The family that time forgot.
Conor Lynch
July 2020