I heard of a friend who'd passed away, heading overseas
Away from the steps that my mother scrubbed, serving on her knees
I read of a life taken still at just on twenty-three
In my mind to set, what his contemporaries believed
You wonder in a quarter of a life could a voice be heard
Without the span of time ahead could resonance reverb?
Those who take the longer path whose life approach full term
My mother, Giacometti, Picasso, are they steadier, starboard to stern
