Author's Webpage:http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/6102/home.html
Author's disclaimer:
There once was a company from Toronto,
Who owned the worlds best TV show.
Places, wolves, people, and plot,
All the rights they have got,
But here I can do what I want to.
***
Seven dark-skinned little boys,
One with skin snowy white.
Fourteen black eyes, one pair blue.
Shining and laughing bright.
Inuit children swaddled in furs,
From a village ancient and wild,
And in the midst of the melee there,
An equally joyful Mountie's child.
Playing as their mothers work,
Simple toys of wood and bone.
Hide and seek and tag you're it,
One not knowing he's now alone.
His father stands in the corner dark,
Watching with a heavy broken heart.
How can he tell those sparkling eyes,
That their world has been torn apart?
He thought his mother was coming back.
She'd gone home to collect forgotten things.
Then she'd take him home like the other boys,
Fledgling gathered safe in mother hen's wings.
How to tell him she was gone?
That she'd walked in on evil there?
Who'd shot her dead and fled away,
Leaving without a single care.
Not just someone's wife but a mother,
With a six and a half year old son.
Who's life would now be shattered,
Almost before it had really begun.
Such unbearable innocence sitting there,
Dear God, must those dimples show?
Why must every perfect little feature,
Bring back Caroline bleeding in the snow?
Why must his eyes be exactly her blue?
Why must his laugh have exactly her sound?
Why must their child now forever remind him,
Of what he'd lost that could never be found?
Stepping out of the darkness,
The boy saw him right away.
He leapt into his father's arms,
With a smile as bright as day.
Starting to say how much he missed him,
Starting to think the visit a special surprise,
Then his little body grew stiff with fear,
As he saw the tears in his father's eyes.
Asking what happened so terrible,
That even fearless Daddy would cry?
The room descended to silence,
As the answer came with the reason why.
Staring in incredulous horror,
He asked if it was really true.
How could Mum go away and die,
When they still had things to do?
She had been all right that morning,
When she left him there to play.
If she had been going to die,
Why wouldn't she simply say?
The father began to tell the truth,
But choked and exchanged a lie.
He couldn't look at that angel face,
And give the real evil of why.
The boy shook his head quickly,
As if to dispel what he had heard.
Pushing out of his father's arms,
He ran away without a word.
Finding the darkest corner,
He curled into a tiny ball.
Little shoulders trembling,
As he fought to deny it all.
Mothers didn't leave little boys.
That simply wasn't ever done.
They were there each morning,
Like the rising of the sun.
There to make you warm cookies.
To dry your tears when you fell.
If you didn't know she taught you.
If you were sick she made you well.
She smelled of woodsmoke and violets,
Was always so soft to the touch.
Always saying he was precious to her,
And that she loved him so very much.
Who would tuck him into bed?
Who would dance with him and play?
Surely it would not be his father,
Steadfast and brave but always away.
The tears began to fall like rain,
As he sobbed and wondered how,
Life could turn so bad so fast.
And who would love him now?