There have been those who have gone before and fallen.
It is in their memory that I now look where I am going.
-emercy
My heart beats faster. What can I do?
The rain it was falling, it blocked every view.
No time to stop, no time to avoid.
The kids were all crying, I was getting annoyed.
I didn't see you coming, across the median line.
In all the confusion, I was temporary blind.I can't tell you what happened, it all went by so fast.
I can't recall if I hit the brake as everything went past.
It has been told that your life flashes before your eyes.
I saw all the joys of what I'd miss, of all the tears to cry.
It was no history lesson, just glimpses of yet to come.The flashes of images of what my children were to become.
The first day of school, in their brand new clothes.
My daughter's bedroom in the color she chose.
My son's first bump from jumping on the beds.
Or the twins laughing as they stand on their heads.These are the images that flashed before me.
It was only after it was all over, did I begin to see.
There were no regrets that came to mind.
I guess it was a gentle reminder of some kind.
To always look for the little things, in those around you.
And appreciate the time you have in all that you do.
As children follow you around and ask a question or two.
Or the wonder of a child as you show them to tie a shoe.In a split second you remember where you are.
And the lights are getting brighter, from the approaching car.
You feel an icy chill, your thoughts going crazy, a mile a minute.
You stand still as time seems to have you caught in it.
Wishing for just one more second to make your plan.
Backtracking, rethinking, doing all that you can.Did I stop too fast, can I do something to avoid this plight?
Is there anyone else around me if I get out of this light?
One split second is all the time that I need.
One more second at just this speed.
Is this my fault, is this where it all comes to the end?
Can I have just one more lifetime with my kids to spend?Total silence. A gasp. Then a wave of relief it brings.
I can't tell you what happened, I don't remember a thing.
But as much as I wish, I can't explain what to say.
But now I admit I pay more attention to my children's day.All because for a minute in time, I almost crashed.
Did you ever think when it all began, that this would be the fate of the airplane?
The thrill of the flight has been injured by the actions of the insane.
Every moment is questioned until you get from airport to airport.
At what point, do you think we can feel save in any mode of transport?
Let's get back to the good ol' days, Methuselah would agree, to the invention of fire.
When the world was flat, and there was no shape for the traditional tire.
Or when the knight was by the damsel's side when she needed rescue.
With the trickier part of the best way to have a dragon barbeque.
Or back to the times, when a gentleman never detailed a nightly crash.
When revealing the details of getting lucky was just kind of brash.
Where a day in the life was captured so excellently on a brownie camera.
Or cakes and brownies were baked by every America little grandma.
There was no worry about the crazy stunts by extreme people wishing for death.
Even those here that seem to have no fear and test the limits with every breath.
But you have to admit that without Methuselah's pets, today there would be no fuel.
Amazing to think that he has survived a whole century of lovers and duels.
And was around to see the beginning of the century of change and cars.
Most of the time dancing in fields of daisies and not sitting at all the bars.
But most of all, you would think at some point in time, he might have gotten a boat.
But who knows, maybe it is all the aged folks in Flordia that keep him afloat.
Like Mary Poppins' charges, as they wanted to help and avoided the bank.
The stock market is unsinkable, like the Titaniac as it began to sank.
There is looting and rioting, around the globe, with money for pop guns.
And no money for siestas, and South American fun under the suns.
The question begets, of where has it all gone, the quandry like: "show me the money".
But can we all calm down, for just a minute, and focus on why it's not funny.
There are those who forget there were many who shed their own blood.
To ensure this tranquility, in this country, that everyone claims to love.
They look around and they never see, the thousand words of every picture.
They never lived the lives not told, they only see the black and white stoic fixture.
Not realizing the risk it takes to be the best, the now silent fireman.
Or the rush of emotion it took to stand tall up next to those that still can.
The search still continues, for those who seek answers, ever vigilant police.
But now they all join in, seeking out the shadows, that hide the hideous beast.
Not lurking on street corners, not out in the open, like small time petty crooks.
Never knowing which turn they might be behind, not knowing all their nooks.
It all comes down to what seems to be a lucky roll of the dice.
Wondering if this is going to be a bad day, or turn out quite nice.
You can always count on the best of the bunch, those heaven sent angels.
That will always be ready and waiting to help us through any and all tangles.
I don't want to forget him so I look at old pictures and letters.
He can't be beside me, and this helps me remember him better.
I can't remember the last time we were together in the sunshine.
Or the last time he held me in his arms, a memory left behind.
Just another imprint in my mind, of a million, just one stamp.
One more image that refuses to focus enough to recall, or can't.
Of all the things he could have done, why did he break my heart?
Did he know that I still needed him here, never imagining us apart?
I was always called his little angel, but now my wings are broken.
All the things he never said, with him gone, are now left upspoken.
I'll always keep him in my heart and dreams, this is my solemn pledge.
But it is hard to stand here so alone, feeling I am barely on the edge.
I know I will never hear that voice again, no answer when I phone.
My words fly higher in the night, higher than anything has ever flown.
No answers come back to me, only blurry images in the tears.
Nothing seems to be the same, nothing can calm the fears.
I will have to remember him, from all the letters and pictures.
His words will always follow me, of this I can be quite sure.
Last time I was by his side, no words were spoken from him.
So now I search for those words not said, until the lights grow dim.
One more day, one more game, a hot July day of baseball.
The players are tired, they just wish it would rain so the game would be called.
But there is no relief in sight, they switch places on the field, going up to bat.
The beating sun gives no respite, so glad each player is to have his hat.
One bat down, and three outs to go, the batter scopes out every player.
The whole town gathered to see the sight, the front row holds the mayor.
The ball comes clean, the third strike is called, "One down", yells out the umpire.
The batboy rushes out to grab the bat, so proud just like a squire.
"The boys can take the championship this year," boast the thirdbase coach.
"They can win all the games this season, they have the drive," the parents all but boast.
The ball gets tossed around the bases, finally ending with the pitcher.
He stand so tall, looking at the stands, he sees his girl and winks at her.
He winds up and pitches smooth, but the batter hits a homer.
Everyone looks dazed and their jaws drop, just like Mayberry's Gomer.
The player rounds out all the bases, and tips his hat to all, as he hits home plate.
My pa is so proud, this is the only game he's seen, it must have been fate.
The next player sulks to the plate, the pitcher throws a strike.
No more nice guy, he vows as he powerhouses with all his might.
But the madder he gets, the more the ball veers out.
Finally when all despair, the score is tied, the rain comes to end this bout.