Seed beads in hand

(not quite finished yet) (about the night my son was killed by a drunk driver)

Seed beads at hand

Sewing earrings from sand

My grandson playing with marbles and dice

Memories of another little boy

Another time, another place

A different smile upon his face

It's nearly 3am

The phone rings

Cousin George at the other end

He says he doesn't want to be

the bearer of bad news

There's been a tragic car accident

My son lay dead in the morgue

The earrings fall out of my hands

I fumble for a half empty pack of cigarettes

as I pace the floor

I am in shock and I know not what to do

This can't be true

Oh God but it is...