Why didn’t you come when I called you in?

The snow outside was up over my shin.

I saw you running around and around,

And yet you didn’t respond with a sound.

There was no way for me to get you; it was too cold,

And I was much, much too old.

Then you were gone, out of sight,

And quickly after, day became night.

I couldn’t go out, else I would have been dead,

So I left the door unlocked for you instead.

But morning came, and you were not there,

And outside, I saw a tuft of your hair

I moved as fast as my old body could,

Out towards the spot where you lay like wood.

I saw you unmoving, devoid of yesterday’s fun.

I knelt by your side, my dear grandson.

I knelt by you, in the snow on that hill.

I knelt by you, my grandson, now forever still.