Daddy

He was crying when his daddy left,
He couldn't understand,
Seven years of age,
He's too young to learn,
What death could really mean.

"Daddy?" he asked, as he pushed the arm,
Of the cold, forsaken man,
The reply was intense,
Silent so cold,
"Daddy?" he cried again.

He tugged at his mother,
Who's eyes were red,
It didn't make much sense.

Seven years of age, he was,
He saw his daddy dead.

The beeping sound,
That ran flat and long,
Was turned out and the blankets held.

And in one sob,
He captured the last image,
Of his daddy's white, pallid form.

"Daddy?" he asked,
Through the white sheets,
There came a dead reply,
His mother took him in her arms,
"Daddy?", he could only cry.