Here lies the young debonair,
Whose smiles came with ease.
His brown and tousled hair,
Smelled like lilacs in the breeze.
Such a short time ago,
On this Earth he once walked.
His lacking status quo did cause him to be mocked.
"How could this occur, what shall we do now?" Father downed his liquor,
Mother wouldn't disavow.
Often death is looked upon
With sadness to bestow.
Here he lies below the lawn,
Above which lilacs grow.
