On hot summer noons
when school bells sing their lunch time tunes
Memories of mine steal me back
to something bitter and black
Children singing ring a rosie things
that have a melody and a sting
"Your baby brothers dead,
"He lays upon a pool of blood"
"He lays upon a pool of black black blood"
"Your Baby brothers dead"
I run like mad to a spot nearly blind
tiny fingers my guide
and find a shine on the road of pain
something that would make a stong man insane
Blackness spreads like water should
and stops me dead like only a bitter taste could
I bend and stoop my childs knee
Wondering if this monster really could be
Fingers point and tenderly touch
and as my tears fall like rain, I know the pain will be too much
blackness that lifts away sticky red
the place where my baby brother had lay dead
Fleet of foot and fear like cold stone
I race to the shelter of my home
I find the sun burns and falls
blossoms on the wine bottle tall
The fan turns smooth and the scented oranges
are bright with color
but my soul has gone gray, not a sign of my mother
And each day since
a tear escapes my glimpse
when school bells sing their lunch time tunes
since I found my brother dead, his black black blood
on my scrubbed raw fingers still a stain
from that long long road of pain
Gunner ©
