I would like to get it straight in my head
As he died in my arms I said
Old mates who knew each other well
Were riding around a bend to hell
A bright sunny day in December
And a nightmare I would always remember
He cut a corner feeling good
Taking one more chance than he should
The truck was in its place
And he hit the grill losing it all without grace
I was right behind the mess
And screamed to god to bless
But it was all too late
And death was there in his fate.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem