of your childhood blonde hair roam my phone,
you were the risk taker,
the tears maker,
the peace and quiet shaker.
Those days took dark
the years turned childhood cheek, into things more bleak,
and while understanding prevailed,
the heights you took things to, they were out of our reach,
inexplicable the why, a continual breach,
now chequered in blue.
The battles of life
in which you forced us to partake, will now be quiet,
you will be missing in action for a time,
but there will be no peace,
instead, exasperation, anger, and sadness, fraught,
your reparation, it cannot be bought.
This new unknown,
coloured in linoleum and steel,
contains dark left turns hard and real,
what will the path be, I wonder,
…and I fear.
Missing in Action