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It seems cruel what life did.

Took you from me out the blue.

When you promised to return,

You had no clue that wouldn't be true.

And yet I feel you left me unprotected,

And a little wiser at the same time.

I believed the world was cruel,

To take someone so dear in his prime.

For I was just to young,

To be left alone.

To be ripped from those arms,

That seemed more secure than home.

I thought life sought to punish you and I.

Made our emotions seem mere.

Day after day the words haunt me.

Even now they're very clear.

"Give me my ticket, Julienne."

"No, I don't want you to go."

"I'll come back. I promise."

"When?"

"I don't know."

And I handed it over grimly.

Sad to see you go.

But if I knew that'd be the last promise you'd make me,

I wouldn't have let that ticket go.

Because a few weeks later,

The police knocked on the door.

And the information they brought,

Made me know happiness no more.

It was much later that night.

I was seated in my room.

Naive and unaware,

Of the news that held our doom.

Did I hear a noise?

Out my window someone was crying.

Is that my mother?

Inside I was dying.

Because with each wail,

I felt her pain.

All this was watched with young eyes,

From inside my window frame.

She called us all downstairs.

We came down in a row.

What was going on?

My heart was beating slow.

We sat at the table,

With expecting eyes.

And slowly it came out,

"Bobby has died."

And I didn't know what to do.

Life had no point.

My body couldn't move.

Not one single joint.

And I sat were I was,

Letting it all sink in.

No longer will I hear your voice,

Or see your face again.

No more soothing words.

No more open arms.

The ones that were so secure,

And kept me from harm.

I listened to stories about you.

Of how you came to be,

A part of my life.

My history.

You were a shepard in a play,

At a church service one year.

And as I sit in church now,

I wipe away a lone tear.

Because you can't play your role now.

Nor walk or sing.

Everyone was cheated,

Of the joy you bring.

The preacher stands over your body,

A memory that will always remain.

And tells a story of a boy,

Who was denied a ride on a train.

And they called me up to speak,

On a poem I picked for you.

I didn't have anything orginal.

To me, poetry was new.

And I looked at the body,

Of a boy I use to hold.

Now when I look at those eyes,

They're nothing but cold.

Yet you wouldn't want me to cry.

To walk around with looks so grim.

No puffy, swollen eyes,

With tears up to the rim.

So I tried to act normal.

The way I would usually be.

But I couldn't hold in the anguish,

As I began to read "I'm Free".



It's now many years later,

And I've come to see.

My dear brother Bobby,

You live on in me.