When you were a child, skies went on forever
golden light, your heart – of fiery field
with a toy gun to shoot the falling stars
from heaven
Once I saw a funeral march
walking slow as fog, gray sorrow made it’s way
with flowers, and faces cried like rain
and stayed with me, all the day
When I was a child, death was foreign
mysterious as plague and strange
on wintry wings it seemed to come
– never calling your name
In those days and dreams of ocean birds
with songs of love, you swam to the warming sun
Today outside your window
a tiny bird sings
to the solemn dawn
unaware that you have gone
just like all the golden flowers
of yesterday and tomorrow