You left with spring
never to experience the summer.
In the fall you came again,
you came as a shock to those you left
and now all that remains
are those bereft.

Too young to leave to eager to stay
a wondering sheep that happened to stray.
The path is brown;
all that was green is gone,
now evermore shall you
rest under the lawn.

The trees they sigh,
the skies they cry,
for the friend they lost and the son
that died.
You travelled along, their home was your own
and now you are gone a mere seed never sown

Where is the comfort?
Where is the solace?
Where is Bacchus with his train so merry?
Has he no strong drink for those who tarry?

Who needs the world with its troubles and
trials?
You found your nest
in the thistles and briers

The sorrow is there
never to stray.
It will always be present,
we shall lament the day.

You may have left
but gone you are not
you shall always be remembered
in our never ceasing thoughts.

We remember you young,
a friend,
you were dear.
From our beginnings in society
you were always so near.
We laughed and we played
just sprouts from the ground:
gayness would abound
when you were around.

Time slowly went,
things began to change,
you left for the first with the season of rain.
Years went by and I saw you not
until that day
which shall not be forgot.

So many the friends
I had as a sprig
never came for a greeting to give.
We all went apart
when you were away
so all we could do way reminisce the day.

Then you came back
at once a greeting on your tongue,
the last time we spoke,
all these years gone.

So now I must wonder,
now I must believe,
could this all have ended different,
if only for me?
What could be done?
(or undone at that)
Is there any way possible
to bring you back?

Alas I must relent
for the dye of fate
will never repent.
Time cannot changed
it will only tell
of what will come out
of those who fell.

Miss you we shall
with each returning year
untill the day that we too will
miss what we fear.
Is it so bad?
only you can say
However you cannot answer
because you did stray.