WHEN GROWNUPS DIE

WHEN GROWNUPS DIE IT'S NOT SO BAD ONE THINKS OF FLOWERS READY TO BE PICKED BUT CHILDREN CHILDREN ARE ANOTHER THING TO SEE THEIR GRAVE SITES WET AS IF THE SKY WAS CRYING ALL STRUCK DOWN SAME HOUR AND SAME PLACE IN A SCHOOL A PLACE OF REFUGE LEAVING PARENTS EMPTY DREAMS BROKEN CRYING WHY WITH NO ANSWER BUT ONLY LEFT TO GRIEVE UNDER THE DISMAL WINTER RAIN FALLING FROM DECEMBER SKY ON THE LIFELESS TOMBSTONES WET WHILE RACHAEL’S SISTERS WAIL WHY HOW QUICKLY WILL THE GRASS CLAIM THE GRAVES AUTUMN LEAVES WILL CLING TO THE STONES UNTIL THE WIND BLOWS THEM AWAY AS IF THEY WANTED TO KISS THE CHILDREN IN PASSING HOW MANY POEMS UNBEGUN ARE BURIED HERE HOW MUCH LAUGHTER, TEARS AND JOY HOW MUCH SORROW IS ENTOMBED THE CHILDREN NOT COMING HOME FROM SCHOOL SPLASHING THROUGH EACH PUDDLE FOUND THE PARENTS BUNDLED AGAINST THE RAIN MAKE QUICK THE TRIP FROM WORK TO HOME TO FIND AN EMPTY NEST LAUGHTER GONE THEY SHED TEARS LIKE RAIN ON THE GRAVESITES AS IF THE SKY WAS CRYING FRANK A VOLLMER