Hope

dark is the shadow that fell
dark is the alley in which the shot rang
deep is the abyss in which he fell
no echo to be heard of his scream
no reverberations from the hard fall
no body suits, no white chalk marks
his face seems of ivory in moonlight
his blood soaked body, ebony
dead as one could be in death
he still longs for the sight to behold
dead as one is in death
he still hopes for the pair of hands
to wash him up
the pair of eyes to cry over him
dead as one is in death
he longs to be mourned
his head pressed against the bosom
and the arms to lay him to rest