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Jimbo

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Yesterday Jimbo was killed.

He slid into heaven dirty and bruised like it was home plate.

 

That man lived and loved with intention.

 

When you've been through hell and back again

and meet someone who's done the same

a bond is easily formed

though few words need be exchanged.

 

That man walked with purpose

and loved with fearlessness.

That man made mistakes

but I watched him fix them.

 

Jimbo left early, unexpectedly and with a bang.

He wouldn't have had it any other way

and without him this world will never be the same.

Comments (1)

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Excellent work! Your words are simple and straightforward with a nice metaphor at the beginning to ease the reader into the rest of your poem. It was well spun from top to bottom.

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