Gone Boy

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Gone Boy

A squeak of a bus door,
Pierces chatter of tiny voices,
Engine grumbles to an awkward stop –
My new friend balances to his feet.

Pulling green, seat corners while passing by,
A shy smile and softly whispered, “Bye”,
Chris bounces down steps with a little hop,
to a corner where he crosses the street.

An ungreased squeak and slapping of doors,
Her impatient eyes peer through a noisy headache,
Runny nose, lunch box and left shoe untied,
A trapped shoelace trips this kindergartner’s gait.

Scooby-Doo lunch box crashes open,
A little boy splashes into the hot, black street,
Before her taken breath could exhale,
Red-lightning, a skidding thud; tires atop shoeless feet.

Terrified eyes catch mine,
Watch the bus!”, she mouths to me,
Her heart-wrenched screams of “Help!”
Get blankets!”, then silence, as all turn to see…

My baby!”, “My baby!” shatters the quiet,
A rush to cover body,
A small huddle catches a grieving mother,
While a strange, rush of peace covers me.

Years darkened by nightmares,
Wakening to saying the Lord’s prayer,
Yet, since Chris, I believed all would be well,
For peace stares unhesitatingly into Death’s glare.

I miss you friend. RIP Christopher Corbett, 1971

 

By Chris Clody
7/8/17