'Three Hundred and Twelve'

    'Three hundred and twelve' 
days in a haze.
   Somberly pondering
methods of escape.
     A crushing blow to my chest as you took your last breath.
     Mother, no other above her,
met her angel of death.
     Weeks turned to months,
The pain turns numb.
     Tears turn to empty stares.
Tragedy turns to my only son.
      Eighteen short years, packed full of love and family. 
      Ironically ended by the impact,
'Three hundred and twelve'
       days in between.