I watch a morning robin swoop and soar—                        
My grandson died; now he is everywhere …                        
When young he wished to reach the further shore;                      
in laughter, raised his arms so high right there.   
 
One night in March, wheels crashed on cruel cement.               
Bless be all those who meet their Lord and face
to face converse with Him, their light unspent.
Young Prince, your life was brief, a touch of grace.
 
But still today, years gone, your song I hear;
the rumble of your boots lives on my stairway.  
When I extend my arms, I see you clear   
and in my dreams, I’ll see your smile, I dare say
 
But now you are an angel; high you drift.
So many sunbeams shining as your gift.