Demontre Bashon White Travis

The clock ticks on, but time stands still,
Against the weight of heaven's will.
To lose a son, a soul so bright,
Is to wander through a noon-day night.

You were the promise, the future’s breath,
A life that should not know of death.
Before the gray could touch your hair,
You left a void in the very air.

We hold the shoes you’ll no longer wear,
The echoes of laughter still lingering there.
A thousand "somedays" vanished fast,
Leaving us anchored in the past.

But love is a cord that will not part,
Stretched from our souls to where you are.
Though you were taken far too soon,
You are the sun, the stars, the moon.

Sleep now, our boy, in quiet rest,
The world was lucky for its guest.
And though our hearts are torn in two,
Every beat belongs to you.

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