
Author's own photo
You never forget the first time,
It’s true what they say,
Nearly fifty years ago,
Could have been yesterday.
His name was Brenton, he was nice,
Smiled a lot, had black hair,
We were in grade seven and at an age
Where we shouldn’t have had a care.
Although Brenton was often absent,
We didn’t know he was so sick,
To the kids in our class
The end came as a shock, so quick.
It was a sad time and many of us girls
Broke down and cried,
The day we learnt the word ‘cancer’
And were told Brenton had died.
You never forget the first time,
It’s true what they say,
Nearly fifty years ago,
Could have been yesterday.