A Snow in Summer.
Like snow that follows Spring,
When flowers start to rise,
It’s wrong for certain things to be,
Like when a child dies.
A Moon that shines on sunlit days,
a cold and damning light,
as wrong as youth that fades and leaves,
forever from our sight.
A warming wind in wintertime,
while in a swirling storm,
is not to be the way of things
nor death in youthful form.
One left to mourn a missing friend,
one left of what was three,
Again it’s like a summer’s snow.
It’s not supposed to be.
JC 2004