The end was visible in the freshly dug earth
A perfect rectangle, a man’s height deep
A dead-end cavity waiting to be filled
With the dreams and aspirations
Of what was thought endless
But cut short at only seventeen years
Ivy League scholarships were useless here
As was the passion and love
That had shaped a soul and body
Into a meaningful existence
Now leaving only fleeting thoughts
And fading photographs
Of a stolen life
And nothing was left to be said
That had not been said
As the gloss of the casket
And the cloudless summer sky
Mocked the tears and shattered hearts
Of those who had loved
And lost
A plethora of flowers wrapped in plastic
Rattled in the listless wind
That also brought with it
The unwelcome truth
That a lifetime is not forever
And is rarely long enough
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