Title of the Book

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?
Home,
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.
And...
excuse the inevitable consequence
of a failure to save him

There was no ice storm,
only
a
cold
road
back in time


29 lines




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.



Best Dark



Many thanks to whoever nominated my poem!