So fragile, is time that’s bestowed,
with hopeful thoughts, their dreams, they own,
but when danger strikes, all is gone,
with never knowing, what they did wrong,
an allrounder, will never bowl, or bat,
nor score a century, nor tip his hat,
but man of the match, he will be known,
around the boundary, that is his home,
nor will a daughter of Hippocrates,
work the magic of her art, to ease,
she carries a golden hockey stick,
in Heaven’s dream team draft pick,
in a broom cupboard, there’s a cup of tea,
without an owner, no sign of he,
both children and staff, all the same,
toast in bone China, to photo in frame,
so, short these two lives, and a man down,
keep strong their smiles, try not to frown,
as in love, there’s warmth, in hate, there’s cold,
for sustained affection, will never get old,
thus, let the three, spread their wings,
to soar through sky, with angel grins,
cry today, celebrate tomorrow,
let community, overcome the sorrow.