Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

The young boy had just finished shopping
for his grandma,
he didn’t mind doing it, and that she knew,
it was something she’d normally do,
he was a sweet grandson, and she knew that too,
he stopped at the corner and looked both ways,
cars come, he stays,
it was how he was taught, and grandma never plays,
then shots were fired, bullets in the air,
people ducking with caution and fear,
he was alone, and that was clear,
a young girl next to him went down,
very hard, she hit the ground,
but she was still breathing,
thank God for that,
others crawling to safety like injured rats,
after battling hungry cats,
his piece of the corner seemed to shimmer,
around him, everything grew dimmer,
there was a lonely simmer,
brewing, stewing,
inside,
then in an instant, his life vanished
as if it had been nothing more than a dream,
and lastly, while sitting on the porch,
Grandma heard a scream.

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