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