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.