For Quinton
The agonized wail
of a mourning mother
pulls me from my shell;
to my joy smothers
11 months, she carried you
and now you're gone
why they took you, I'll ever knew
I'll hum a sad song
I thought you'd come before
Then October passed,
then November,
December, and April
How coincidental that you
came when you did
Just as the flowers had bloomed
instead of a skid,
you saw a flower, I'd assumed
Quinton, you are a song
A song for my restless heart;
Fly free, my handsome lark
For on this earth, you don't belong