Your stone is to bleak to hold your shine.
at least your message is alive and engraved.
Like a butterfly your life was fleeting
but full of color, fragile and entrancing.
I do not have the lips to stain a kiss
or crayon a faded flower.
memories are harsh to the old and dying
but a beautiful dream to the young and thriving.
I wish i could resurrect your grace
to bring a new era of peace and love upon this place.
But i'm just one man,
barely anything really.
I imagine you like a caterpillar in its caccoon
and one day hope to see you burst out new.
and fly on
voodoo child
fly on.
