He walked through the cornfields,

His hand grazng the tall crop,

He pulled his cap down, shielding his eyes from the sun,

 

His brother, less than three days young,

Had been born weak and sickly,

He had lived through fifteen winters,

He understood nothing lasts for ever, but that didn’t make him any less distraught,

 

He had woken before his mother,

so that he could clear his mind,

And prepare for the sorrow that was yet to come,

 

He heard a wail come from the house,

He ran towards the stone brick farmhouse,

It was time,

 

He burst through the door to the kitchen,

His whole family was there,

Crowded around their mother,

She crying, craddling the empty shell of his brother,

Maura was comforting her, but the tears were running down her cheeks too,

 

His father lingered in the back,

Purple bags under his eyes,

Shock covered his old, aged face,

 

He felt something ignite inside him,

A deep sense of mourning,

He had been expecting this,

But seeing his brother, Fern, an empty shell,

He would neverr get to talk, or walk, never feel the thrill that was life,

 

Three days old,

Three days of prayers and tears,

Or pain and misery,

He could rest now, Fern could finally breathe easy,

 

He wrapped his arms around Maura,

Trying not to look at the bundle of clothes that covered his brother,

Nothing lasts forever,

Noothing lasts forever