It was a bright sunny day in two thousand and seven.
September twenty first at quarter to eleven.
In a coma you lay without even a stir.
With our eyes full of tears it just never occurred.
That this was the last time we would see you alive.
At your bedside your family, children, and wife.
We watched you all night and part of the morning.
Then you sighed your last breath without any warning.
We hoped before you parted to your home up above.
We could take you in our arms and give you a hug.
Your body all broken and ruptured with pain.
All our hopes and desires were all in vain.
For God had decided it was your time to go.
To that place they call heaven that we all know.
You left us your poetry , teachings and books.
So let us make use of your wonderful works.
When we visit your grave now we know your not there.
You are up in that College without any care.
So look kindly on all that are left here a mourning.
And please God tomorrow we all have a bright morning.
Copyright: 2007 Patrick J. Ronan