The bee outside the church buzzed and bumbled

and the small boy soon began to mumble

the chesnut curls, beneath his cap peeked through

and a tiny kitten ran by many a mew.


The waters beauty, cool on surreal days dawn June

at nights the bugs a'light under the fairy moon

willows tall and sedate move naught, as maples always do

the small chap runs with vigour, his small head a'bob


The leaves fall low, ablaze, aglow, and his mother knows

the boy a'fever, curls peeled back towards brow, ashen death

the women senses, her neck tenses and the wind blows

clutching life, devoid but of strife, one sweet breath left.


Smile serene the ivory pallor, lips turned in final valour

tawny hair combed in splendid waves, sunlight falters

the procession alters, malice inclined to each one dallier

and so it climbs, at least he has met the Great Divine.