The Highschool Box

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Untitled #2

Here I sit all alone, with the poems of a man lost long ago.

His words ring clear through out the night. Though I never knew him, I feel the connection of the love he held so dear.

Although he was family, his face I didn’t know, but his soul I would have fought to known. A man, a boy, ripped away from his life, has left me now with the words and his feelings inside.

For now, I sit and silently weep, the man has left immortality the faith he’s put inside me.

Where he is now I know for certain, with wings of a dove and eyes of a lamb. He watches over us all in the stars we all wish we could hold in our hand.

With the magic of heaven, and the poetry of grace. Someday I will look upon his face.

B.W. Harold

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