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Too Late
November 11, 2008
She tucks
her hands in her pockets
the breeze stirs her hair
the moon disappears
behind a cloud
nothing seems real
she sees
it happen
like slow motion
the car
rounding the corner
no street light
she's wearing black
the driver
can't see her
she knows
before it happens
it hurts
but not
to bad
she hears voices
soft
and faint
its too late
she knows
there's
no chance
he came
to fast
he hit
to hard
she died to fast
she didn't
have
a chance.
© by Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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