Spring Of Last

It was spring, I remember,
just barely so. Winter still
grasped the leaves; nights still cold.

But we still played, all
those childish games.
The ones where you hide and seek,

run, tag, and leap.
We had fun, in those
springy winter days...

But the sadness in
his eyes, at each and ever goodbye
pulled at my heart, made me want to cry...

The next day, he didn't come back
nor the next day
or the next day after that.

On the fourth day
I could no longer wait.
I snuck to his house, to see if he'd come play.

When he opened the door
his smile was filled with such
wondrous joy...it made my heart sore! Oh the one I adore.

He received me with a hug,
then a smile, then a kiss.
A simple one, to my lips.

Of course I was shocked
even a bit scared
But it was okay, I got it right then and there.

The kiss I understood
and oh, how I knew!
That I, of all people, loved him too.

He pulled me inside and closed
the door; pressed his finger to his
lips, told me not to utter a word.

We sat on the floor
in his room in silence.
His hand brushed mine

told me not to be frightened.
But I trembled and quaked
That bruise on his face!

I saw it true, black
and blue, swollen and new.
The bruise, I understood it.

But what pulled at me
how could his father do it?
"Shh, it's okay...he's not here."

His voice was a whisper
but I didn't
miss the string of fear.

An hour passed...stolen with kisses
and simple explanations
for his father's disposition.

"You need to tell!" I cried
miffed by his passiveness.
"You can't just let it happen!"

He laughed and said it
was okay, everything was fine.
But I knew, it was all a lie.

I shook my head and pulled at his
hand. "C'mon," I pleaded
"lets go to my house instead."

But he stayed still, told
me "no." It
had to end. This would be the final blow.

"BOY! WHERE ARE YOU!" cried
a voice from below.
I jumped and yelped, frightened to the bone.

He hushed me at my side.
"It's okay," he smiled, "I've had enough..." and that's
when he pulled out the gun.

The door slammed open, a man big and strong
stood there, and glared. A sight it must've
been, two boys holding hands.

The man stared
screamed in anger
and attacked in a rage.

Two gun shots blasting
loud and strong. Then
it was over; completely done.

Father and Son...gone
one for each blast.
And that was the end.

My Spring of Last.