No more Syrup

The neighbours were away –Time to take the twins over the wallTo feed the rabbit and the guinea pig.A few steps and then our steep garden.One grandad and two four year old boysTrudging through the snow pastHenry the snowman to the top of the garden -Here, the wall was navigable.Legs apart, hands gripping Roman,I hauled him onto the not-so-dry-stone wall,His little wellingtons slipping on icy moss.‘Me next,’ from Cole as I gingerly loweredRoman down into the garden.‘Just wait there Roman,’ as he was off –Plunging through the snow-covered grassFearless as a fell runner down towardsMaple and Syrup.Cole, kicking his feet before he reached the groundWas soon with his brother –‘Boys, they’re not starving, wait for me,’As I struggled to get a toe grip on the wall –Slowly, but not so surely, I clambered over.But to be four is to live in the moment –

Before I could reach them they hadReleased a catch and wereStruggling to swing back the top of the cage.‘Grandad, Syrup’s not moving.’Breathless, I reached down to touch him, gently –Cold and lifeless as the snowman.‘Is he dead grandad?’I was surprised by the tone.‘Yes Cole, I’m afraid he is –Jane told me that Maple bullies Syrup,Doesn’t let him into the covered part.’I was surprised there were no tears.‘Why did he die though grandad?’Mother-bloody-nature –‘He was too cold Roman.’‘And guinea pigs never harm anyone grandad,He never harmed Maple – can’t we warm him?That might help.’‘No Roman, he’s dead love, the dead don’tCome back to life – they just don’t.’‘Jesus did grandad.Sunday school -‘It’s not fair grandad. It’s not fair.Syrup never harmed anyone.’The way of the world was too much for him,So the tears began to flow.Cole spoke softly now: ‘Don’t cry Roman, don’t cry.’But Roman had to cry as Syrup had to die.And as his tears fell on the guinea pigI couldn’t help but think, if not Syrup,Maybe Roman was being baptised.