Too young to see such horror; are we ever old enough?
Too young to sing funeral dirge, of death to be told;
Too young to bring flowers to dress the coffin cold;
Too young to ring the funeral bell for Reaper’s hold.
Too young to wing your way to Mors for life to mould;
Too young to kneel by dying frame, expected to be bold
Beyond your years, to shed no tears lest someone scold.
And who will hold you right tight against such fright
As night rolls on till beam of light in Sol’s stream?
Too young to withhold free scream at such fright-sight;
Too young to be old enough not to care at death bare.
Too young . . . too young.
Your life has just begun.
Note: Dedicate to my two children, who have seen too much too young