Years ago I was just a boy. Three of us
went to Hick's lake. A lake famous for drownings.
We were not there to swim. We had found fallen logs
Tied them together with ropes. Made a mast with a
tent we found. We oared about the lake with long poles
Bobby was one of the only boys of color in our school
Adopted by an older white couple. He was my friend.
There were three of us that day. I was the only one
really a good swimmer. Blue skies turned black.
The wind was howling. My sister on shore was yelling,
"Mom sez to get home." I swam to shore. six blocks
and we heard the firetruck.
Hollowed are the sounds
of winter winds in mist
Blue skies are bleeding ice
On wooden legs we did explore
Fading sounds of a friend dying
Call for me in the night
One more winter day passes by
No love of cold damp winds have I
Jesus took Bobby in his arms
No more tears can I cry
For God needed Bobby more than I
Jimmy came to say. Bobby was pulled
under and I couldn't save him.