It was 8:38 on a Monday night
when my stomach dropped out.
'Crazy boys, honest boys...'

Gone; a light gone dark,
a window drawn over.
'...and I had to see them hurt. Again.'

A story half-finished,
a child half-grown.
'And it's not even midday.'

A moonlit cathedral,
gone.
A strength, a perseverance,
diminished.
A golden bird,
taken.
But this time she didn't leave her feathers.

'Fly free, Firebird.'