When I think of August I always think of that fateful day,
Clouds billowy and white in the sky the day he went away.
My little brother, my children’s Uncle, Father, Son, friend,
August will forever remind me of the day his life would end.
Running to the emergency room and seeing my Mother’s face,
No one needed to tell me my brother’s life had been erased.
He lay so peacefully I touched his hair, this brother I adored,
as I touched his hair, I realized the simple things I'd ignored.
I remember that moment in time and oh, how I recall the pain,
of just realizing I'd never touch or see my brother ever again.
August reminds me of heart-break and of endless painful days.
Hot sleepless nights spent weeping in that mournful foggy haze.
Of little nieces crying because their poor Daddy was now dead,
Of the pain in my Mother’s eyes, while she wished it her instead.
My sister was wobbling as she tried to hold up his grieving wife,
White clouds of August rolled that day my brother lost his life.
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