Twelve Cents of Lead

My little darlin' it's been a long while.
In the somewhere is there reason to smile?
Bright with light or ugly and gray the day
Memory cares not, when it wants its way.

Visions of baby Jack held in arms so tight,
Eyes wide as your life's breath took flight,
An angel with crimson wings suffused,
Another's misused moment, ungodly your dues.

With diamond eyes and our best dress
We gathered to lay you to final rest.
White light, white casket, white roses,
Your mama one last look and the lid she closes.

Sissy pointed the gun, fingered the trigger
Playing games, a fantasy, nothing bigger.
Overwhelming surprise, deafening reverb
Lives now out of balance, askew, absurd.

Guilt and blame were Sissy's new names.
Mama's crucible cast her with much the same.
Sissy older, but herself not much more than child;
The sister, the caretaker, the self-imposed exile.

At escaping fate our Sissy did not do better.
Her memories were shackles; her mind chatter
Like a movie flick on rewind and auto,
Darlin's lifeless eyes, ruby halo the constant photo.

Her new mates alcohol and pills
Promised nightmare's end and cured ills.
But she too now wakens no more,
Caught in forever sleep as if she evened the score.

Darlin' twelve, Jack a babe, Sissy fourteen,
A family's life and times make up the scene.
Characters, plot, conflict born of an instant,
Life's tableau sadly written on it's absence.

With curiosity and twelve cents of lead,
Laughter stilled and the forever child was bred.
The opinionated argue people, they argue guns
Though diligent we be so far its all just slogans.