Threnody

The simmering sun
Shall warm no mourners

No gathering in black
To bid you a ta-ta

No tribute to distribute
Your attribute

For your slate
Had tasted no chalk

A glowing candle strangled
By the harsh winds of death

Dropping the poet’s pen
In the midst of a dozen lullabies

Your memories will forever
Be a big bang upon my door
For the few weeks of delightful fatherhood

My child, my child --
They’ll never know

How it hurts to hear,
'The Lord giveth, likewise did he taketh!'