It was six in the morning.
That morning the minister made
His final prayer by Michael’s bedside.
He was long gone.
As he lies there covered,
And quiet as the night.
The night sickness took him from us,
Like a thief.

We, the family,
Were left broken-hearted
And in despair,
As we paid our respects.
Like little children we were.
Like little children,
Looking for hidden answers.
As the undertakers
Carried him out of the house.

As I wipe off my tears gently with disbelief,
I wonder how this could have happened
So suddenly.