August 15, 1958

You were six
What a hot bossy day
When you were six
Our family hike up that cross canyon trail
You were six
That coming fall you would be starting school
When you were six
I remember your pretty face
You were six
I remember boss terror in your eyes
When you were six
Fate crossed us as you fixed on me
You were six
I was the last thing you saw
When you were six
Clutched in my horrified mother's arms
You were six
You both were seized and tossed in that frigid swell
When you were six
Swept away over that bossy eighty foot waterfall
You were six
Icy rushing water with its cross kiss of death
When you were six
My unflossed memory of such fear in your eyes
You were six
I was only four
When you were six
Me standing on the mossy edge of that raging torrent
You were six
I remember boss horror fixed on our mother's face
When you were six
That instant as you both plunged over that unforgivable edge
You were six
No lost memories of that tragic moment and I recall speaking
When you were six
"If I were Superman I would save you"
You were six
Our older sister screaming
When you were six
She was eight
When you were six
What a hot August day in those rugged Rocky Mountains
You were six
August tragedy up costly Johnston canyon
When you were six
I remember terror crowding your angel face
You were six
That last lost thing you saw
When you were six
One last second staring into each other's eyes
You were six
I still toss and dream of you
When you were six
You're still attached to my accosted soul
You were six
Now I'm a mossy sixty-five
You were only six.