Elegy of innocence and youth

This week I had to tell my seven year old that a nursery and school friend of his had died. We knew he was ill. He and his family had moved away from London to Wales for special and palliative care some time ago but we still kept in touch and often visited when we were back in my home town catching up with family.

Ben didn't say much of anything when I told him, but kept all these things and pondered them in his heart, quietly asking his Mum about it when she put him to bed that night.

Hard learning for my little boy, but harder for the immediate bereaved family. Rest in peace.

Here amid the warmth of the rain, what might have been
is resolved into the tenderness of a tall doom
who says: 'You did your best, rest - and after you the bloom
of what you loved and planted still will whisper what you mean.