Alone he sat and stared
at pictures hanging on the wall...
the photographs now old and grey
not really there at all...
A slide show of his life
now racing by...in black and white...
he takes a seat...gets ready..
for an ageless...timeless flight....
As tears slid down a weary cheek
a little boy of four...
a red guitar within his hands
that he can play no more...
With hair as dark as midnight
his hand set against his chin...
who fought the battle gallantly
a fight he could not win....
A baby lying silent..
in a crib done up in blue..
that colored it in silent screams...
a deafening misty hue...
A little man who never owned...
a bat.. a ball.. a glove....
the one thing that he longed for….
the gentle touch of love....
A sunset on mountain...
a sunrise on the lake....
a thought about a second chance...
he always chose to take....
The hatred of a mother...
who said she wished her son was dead...
the many paths of interest....
always searching...where they led...
Now comes the end...
the saturated silence falls around...
so heavy...you can hear it ...
as it clatters to the ground...
Awakening the dead one...
not dead..only in a trance...
the music starts...he's ready...
for the very last..slow dance...
TS