(an elegy for Aylan Kurdi)

carried on the foam white crest
on wood on water on sand
the cruelty that must be jest
has washed across our land

once i knew a fine young boy
who looked with sad old eyes
upon his own dear life's joy
and the happiness that lies

lift me up my last old friend
my finally, again last chance
my dear beginning and my end
my fleeting final glance