A Boy’s Ultimate Question
On a cold winter’s night, a young boy suddenly confronts the mystery of death. A quiet poetic reflection on childhood, mortality, time and the unsettling questions that arrive without warning.
It’s almost 8 on a cold winter’s night &
A young boy sits cupped in his hands
Warming on the metal lid of an air dryer –
Those with wooden poles vertically arranged
To hang light cotton on.
Mother and siblings are downstairs.
In the purple room the thought just flashed –
What is death like? He paused.
The future, looking back into the future,
There’s a grey expanse. The day is still,
While the answer creeps ever closer.
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