On That Day

Youth is a time of innocence and play,
a fanfare, a first chapter in life’s book,
yet death was waiting on that day.

See the caring boy, our morning’s ray,
who loves to laugh and, sometimes, rides his luck.
Youth is a time of innocence. And play

delights the heart and soul of mundane day,
like the playful tumbling of a brook.
Yet death was waiting. On that day

a dismembered family in disarray
came face to brutal face with that crook;
Youth. Is the time of innocence and play

now past? This is my last bouquet.
We sought, with outstretched arms, his gentle look,
yet death was waiting, on that day.

Through the mists of memory, I still survey
the random savagery and the life it took.
Youth is a time of innocence and play,
yet death was waiting on that day.

by Charles Whittaker

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