First kill

 First Kill

Johnclarestokes 

I proudly shot daddy's Purple Martin that day

Not knowing they kept mosquitos at bay.

Mamma told me, Quickly! Go bury the bird!

And to your father not breath a word.

I dug a hasty grave behind the shed

Then hid the Red Rider under the bed.

Each evening I looked in fear as Martins flew

That somehow daddy counted and knew.

Such the guilt on a little boys brain

That a tiny bird could cause such strain.

Years passed, the Martin houses rotted and fell

Now I'm old, but bless mamma, she never did tell!

The first kill haunts us through our days

Till at last, Martins keep mosquitos at bay

Above our graves.