The Boy Who Stopped the Sky
The Clouds are weeping on blackened sky.
Her Morning’s finger sweeping’cross her eye.
The Broken Heart, bowing his head
To the Boy Who Dared to Live, now dead.
The Days and Months tie night-like bows
Onto their minutes; their sorrow shows.
Behind their hurt, a Sunday song
They sing to know they’ll move along.
And the World does what she does best.
She dries her cheek and beats her chest
For tomorrow brings what she dreads to say,
“A day without him is still a day.”
So the Clouds and Morning have stopped their tears,
The Days and Months have turned to Years.
The minutes turned Months forget why they’ve sung,
And I sit idly by — with heavy heart hung.