(In memory of my brother, who I never really knew, nor made an attempt to, until it was far too late.)
A boy child was born one day,
In a place both near and far away.
Second born son was he,
Ranked fourth in the family.
Born 'neath a restless star,
His wanderings oft took him far.
He was quick of wit and slow to wrath;
He made many friends along life's path.
To aid others was his great delight;
He pursued it with all his might.
striving so hard to live as others wished him to live,
Giving so much of himself, till naught was left to give.
Wearied nigh unto death;
Forced to struggle for every breath.
At length our Lord called him home,
Never again to roam.
I mourn my brother on this day,
And wish for the right words to say.
Words I should have spoken long before,
Words that must wait till I see him once more.
