The Flying Boy

I remember him standing
in front of the mirror smiling.
He wore his underwear,
my rain boots, a white t-shirt,
and a sheet that wrapped
around his neck that said his name.
My little brother, yes
my skinny little brother Robby.
Wanted to be a hero,
a superhero, he wanted to save me.


It's funny, the day was beautiful unlike dramatic tragedy.
Wearing his cape and riding next to me.
The wind blowing blond hair into his eyes,
Our bicycles with little playing cards,
Tickling the spokes playfully.
"Brother", he cried to me,
"Watch how fast I can go, watch me fly!"
And so he pedaled faster and faster,
I was watching Robby fly.
Time stopped then and dreams turned to nightmares.
I wanted to save him.


Well his eyes rolled back,
And he tumbled down the street,
Grabbing his chest, he can't feel his feet.
He chokes and sputters and I start screaming,
"Mother, mother, mother!"
His skin turns blue when we get him inside,
His lips are purple and his eyes are white.
Sirens and stretchers come to the scene,
Paramedics running past our tree house,
Running past old toys and wooden swings.
I see a sad man shaking his head,
My mom starts crying and my brother,
Looks sadly at me as his breathing slows...

Laying across him, I feel the last beats of his heart.
He smiles softly and his voice angelic,
Like feathers meeting flowers in beautiful design,
"Brother, please don't cry, didn't you see me fly?"

But little did he know, little did we know, That it wasn't me, who was going to need the saving.