He rode home filled with silent apprehension
Not knowing what he was supposed to feel
They'd broke the news without consideration
He found it hard believing all was real
'Your mother's dead boy,' rang the master's voice,
'Go home, you're needed by your family.'
And so he went, it seemed he had no choice
A journey home, made not so happily
As those he'd made on other ordinary days
He stared through hollow eyes and sunken face.

The doctor gone, the priest was also leaving
Betwixt muffle, hat and coat the boy was told.
'I'll call upon your father before evening.'
And found himself left in the dark and cold
He dared not look upon his mother's face
Until from work his father again came
And only then would enter in that place
Where lay his mother's vacant mortal frame
There stood they side by side and veiled in shadows
Of grief and loss and pain and shock and sorrow.

But there were things that needed to be done
And so the boy was left alone to grieve
And found his troubled mind still dwelt upon
The fragments of his mother's life still seen
The note upon the mantle in her hand
A golden hair upon the sofa's arm
An echoed phrase that sprang into his mind
And soothed him as he sat down filled with calm
And ate the sandwiches his mother made
To put into his lunchbox that same day.