On Robby's Death in Menomonee Falls

April 4, 1973

He always looked up at the sky -
Miracle of dawn to wonder of dusk.
Studying the clouds in the oceans of the skies.
Seeing elephant clouds and pirate ships,
Cowboys on horses, and Indians too.
And even Granny's face.

He always looked up the sky-
Feeling the earth beneath him turning,
Like he was on a carnival ride.
And once he lost his balance
From looking up so high.
Studying the stars and constellations,
And having conversations with the moon.
Maybe Santa would bring a telescope next year?

He always looked up at the sky-
Watching the birds fly,
And the clouds roll by,
And the jets leaving trails across the sky.
(How many of us are ever aware of anything Above a 2 story building?)
His soul seemed to echo: I belong up there. I want to fly.

Last night a fire forced flames up into the sky-
Smoke veiled the stars,
The night sky glowing orange.
Flames scorched the moon's face.
Today Mommy and Daddy weep.
Tomorrow they will hear the tolling of the church bells.
And an angel gets his wings.

1999 poetheart


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