Why? - Diane Scantlebury

I sat in his mother’s conservatory
For a quiet moment,
Surrounded by floral tributes and cards
To have a silent weep,
While I thumbed through a selection of photos,
Snapshots of a blue eyed boy
Taken from us in his sleep,
My eyes stung
As the tears welled up,
But I had to let them fall,
To stain the images in my lap
Of a young life so strong and tall,
Every frame captured still in time
His journey from child to man,
Bright smiles betraying his lonely demise,
Why he’s gone?
We’ll never understand.

Diane Scantlebury