Andrew J.

By
He would sit in a purple bean bag chair,
The light of the T.V reflecting off his eyes,
Video game controller in hand.
Unmoving for hours at a time.

When the summer came,
He would run until his feet tuned black.
But, never would he shower.
Unless you forced him, of course.

And, all of the girls in school had a crush on him.
But he just asked,
"Why do they like me sissy?"
What do you tell a six-year-old?

No, school was for school work.
And that's just what he did.
A math genius was what we had.

He was bright, and innocent.
And always curious.

Everyone loved him.
His round head,
His perfect smile.
Blue eyes that could heal your sorrows.

Maybe that's why it was such a surprise.
That God chose him.

The burning scent upon the air.
As the world melted before me.


Now he is gone,
No longer does he smile,
Or stare at you with those perfect blue eyes.

No longer can I hear his childish laughter,
That should have rung on for years.


All I hold of him now is a memory.





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