Memorial Day (In remembrance of the young ones lost along the way)

Never to walk, climb or run.

Never again to laugh or cry.

Never learning to read or write.

Never, never, never ever for

the first time, never ever again.

Never to love or hate.

Never to scorn or appreciate.

Never to play an instrument

or compose a symphony.

Never to paint a masterpiece.

Never to graduate or marry.

Never to stroll hand-in-hand

through a blooming garden

with a lover in spring.

Never, never, never ever for

the first time, never ever again.

Never the first day on the job,

never the last, never to

climb the ladder of success,

never to be fired or retire.

Never to be mother, father,

aunt or uncle, grand or great.

Never to win a gold medal

or swim the English Channel.

Never to eat Maine lobster

or Kansas City steak.

Never to sail or fly, to travel

far and wide, never, never.

Never to simply say, please

and thank you.

Never to mourn the loss

of a young child such as the

one my eyes have tearfully

fallen upon in this sorrowful

and tragic time and place.

Never to grow old and gray

to become weak and frail,

burdened with the terrible

weight of grief I feel this day.

Never ever again, I pray.

Chris Hanch 5-28-18