Eve of September
Quiet August eve on brink of September
awful early morn, try not to remember.
Peaceful slumber jolted, ringing telephone
son full of grief, crying—oh, so alone.
Words spoken in panic cut deep to the core
“We won’t see him,” he said softly, “anymore.”
Steel belted radials, concrete mourned the hum
break neck speed, darkened abyss, on the run.
Screeching tires, running feet, wide open door
all stood in silence, embraced, not as before.
Lights turned out as broken beads shard
fell shattered dreams upon bleeding hearts.
Time erased, suspended mid air
no going back, can’t change the lair.
Dark steed gallops hard, thundering roar
away from this life not seen anymore.