A voice from the distant past is calling your name
A voice of young love lost and forgotten
A voice screaming we're going to crash
A voice saying oh my god we're on a VW Bug
A voice from a security guard saying who's your parents
A voice from a mother saying your never going to see that boy again
A voice from a father saying how could you let that girl drive your car
A voice silenced and forced to move on with life.
A voice with a story of first love lost.
I'm not much of a poet, but do you remember a night like that? If you don't, then you're not the Dianna Drinkard I knew or the one that knew Scott Freshner and his 1968 Chevelle Malibu.
If this is you, HOW ARE YOU DOING! ! ! ! ! !
A friend of mine writes poetry and had me look up one of them. I saw this name from the past and left a comment at your poem. It's been a few months. You must have never read it or Ignored it, which I would understand if you don't want to contact me. But if you would like to chat, I'll be looking forward to your email.