Jazz
The cold, unforgiving bleachers
Sat stoically that day,
Catching tears as they dripped.
An endless slideshow played,
Showing a joyful boy
Of only 10.
The bagpipes were a mournful choir
As they sang the haunting melody.
We wrote our last messages to him
That were carried inside colorful clouds
Into the otherwise empty sky,
Reaching up to him in heaven
Like his grandma reached out to me then.
A tiny box was pressed in my hands,
She tearfully whispered,
"He wanted you to have these."
Glittering earrings lay inside.
As I stroked the head of the bear I had made him
Just a week before,
I remembered him sharing Skittles with me,
Always giving, never taking.