Poet#16 - "the Road"

The single mother, one who was expecting soon,
In a vehicle with a girl so small,
Ran the red light; she didn't see the truck
Through the rain that continued to fall.

Clouds rumbled on the dark morning,
As God himself had prepared to cry,
In preparation for what was to come,
For the pure lives that were about to die.

Now two broken white shards of wood remain,
Abandoned and rotting, forgotten and feared,
With wilting flowered assortments around,
And on them vile graffiti is smeared.

Rain beating down on the lonely crosses,
Just like that long ago tragic day,
Weeds sprouting near, uncared for and wild,
Where the wrongly deceased unwillingly lay.

Mud is splattered as cars pass by,
Ignoring what's left of the scene's grace,
Destroying the final stand and peace
Of those who never received a resting place.

A single mother who had been eight months pregnant,
In a car with her daughter, already five,
Wasn't expecting such an early end,
When a raving drunk driver took her life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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melancholy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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