Sometimes, it is all that remains
There wasn't time to gather thoughts
seized what was close enough to
an inevitable conclusion:
face an ice storm or
rush home by sunset
He was reading a book I gave him
the moment his heart stopped
So, we cling to that thought forever.
I threw my suitcase at the wall,
left him there to die, didn't we?
In our hurry to leave and get where exactly?
out of the weather
he convinced us
Didn't know the future,
so we excused ourselves
If I throw enough baggage,
can I bring him back in another life?
A dent in the wall
will have to suffice.
excuse the inevitable consequence
of a failure to save him
There was no ice storm,
back in time
This poem was an entry in "Shadows and Light Poetry Contest"
The book in question was very real. So was he. He was born September 10th and died December 30, 1995.
Many thanks to whoever nominated my poem!