Jazz

The cold, unforgiving bleachers

Sat stoically that day,

Catching tears as they dripped.

 

An endless slideshow played,

Showing a joyful boy

Of only 10.

 

The bagpipes were a mournful choir 

As they sang the haunting melody.

 

We wrote our last messages to him

That were carried inside colorful clouds

Into the otherwise empty sky,

Reaching up to him in heaven

Like his grandma reached out to me then.

 

A tiny box was pressed in my hands,

She tearfully whispered,

"He wanted you to have these."

Glittering earrings lay inside.

 

As I stroked the head of the bear I had made him

Just a week before,

I remembered him sharing Skittles with me, 

Always giving, never taking.

This poem is about: 
Me

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