For Quinton

The agonized wail

of a mourning mother

pulls me from my shell;

to my joy smothers

11 months, she carried you

and now you're gone

why they took you, I'll ever knew

I'll hum a sad song

I thought you'd come before

Then October passed,

then November,

December, and April

How coincidental that you 

came when you did

Just as the flowers had bloomed

instead of a skid,

you saw a flower, I'd assumed

Quinton, you are a song

A song for my restless heart;

Fly free, my handsome lark

For on this earth, you don't belong