He didn’t make it

November 8, 2007
By Breanna Channey, Battle Creek, MI

He didn’t make it
A piercing scream escapes my lips
As the swing went higher and faster
I could envision the smile on his face
His eager voice persuading me to jump
I fly through the air
And proudly land on my feet
He runs to me with his crooked gin
And says he’s proud of me

In the distance I hear sirens
I lie in bed engulfed in the darkness
I count the steady raindrops against my window
I wonder where they’re going
Curiosity got the best of me so
I get out of my Winnie the Pooh blanked bed
And I tripped over my 20 dolls
There’s a banging on my front door

My breath catches in my throat
He’s back
I look from the bruise on my arm
To the hole in the wall
My knees just about buckle

My mom shoots out of Dee’s room
And forcefully yanks open the front door
A stretcher shoves its way through the door
That room right there she points
I can hear the devastation in her voice
She sits they’re for a while staring in my direction
Mom, I say with a shaky voice
She looks at me as if noticing me for the 1st time
She grabs me and holds me tight
And she starts to cry

The paramedics are doing their work
And 10 minutes later
They slowly walk out
Heads lowered and quite whispers
I’m sorry, he didn’t make it

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This article has 1 comment.

. said...
on Jul. 24 2011 at 12:29 pm
So touching. Poems never make me cry yet this one did.


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