CLOTH TRIMMED BOX (get your hanky ready)

A bright flash
blinds his eyes
the sound of the horn
takes him by surprise
his bike starts to wobble 
CRASH!
Over he topples 

The screech of brakes
fill the air 
People turn and stare 
the boy lies lifeless 
He has no air 
Blood on his face 
And mattered hair 

Skin opaque 
Null of colour 
Life extinguished 
Pulse relinquished 
Body contorted 
Eye’s distorted 
His life thwarted

In a little wooden box 
lies her greatest treasure 
A priceless gem 
worth can't be measured 

In a little wooden box 
There's a pair of shoes 
A special gift 
he wore for school 

She wants to run to it 
she wants to look inside 
But she can only sit 
and stare wide eyed 
with tears streaming 
they sting her eyes  

There's someone talking 
she can't hear 
her body numb 
she feels quite queer

There's music playing 
soft somewhere 
as to where 
she is unaware 
her mind his locked 
eyes fixated 
on that little wooden box 

In a little wooden box 
There's a pair of glasses 
They're custom made 
In the latest fashion 
D&G runs down the side 
Behind the lenses 
Closed eyes lie 

In a little wooden box 
Is a little silk red tie 
she made it herself 
for her special guy 

Her husband helps her  
onto shaky feet  
Trying to stand
is quite a feat 
But slowly she rises 
And moves her feet 

He holds her tight
close to his chest 
with how she wobbles
it's probably for the best 
as they take a slow walk
towards that little wooden chest

Her heart starts to beat 
She starts to perspire 
Inside her chest 
Her lungs feel as though 
They are on fire 
But still she continues
on with her walk
even though 
she is breathless 
and cannot talk  

They reach the end 
then stare into the box 
Made from fine oak 
and trimmed in fine cloth
Brass handles hang of the side 
A picture of Thomas 
Lies by his side 
The vision presented 
brings more tears to her eyes
she can’t hold them back 
and tears stream
from her eyes  

Just ten years old 
in his young prime
dressed to the nines 
pin striped suit 
silk red tie

Riding home
knocked of his bike
no lights 
6 pm Saturday night 
Took the back roads 
in the midst of the night

In that little wooden box 
she brushes down his suit 
takes her sleeve 
And cleans his shoes
straightens his glasses 
his silk tie too
kisses his head 
like she did before 
but this time she wont 
be closing no bedroom door

In that little wooden box 
lies her greatest treasure 
A priceless gem 
worth can't be measured

The door opens
everybody turns 
a man stands in the doorway 
angry faces stare back 
He takes a seat right at the back 
with a bunch of flowers 
sat on his lap

He puts his head into his hands 
But he is not napping 
his eyes wield his guilt
he’s the reason 
this little boy 
lies dead in his
pin striped  suit

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