A Lonely Place To Die
I was driving the country back roads;
in a hurry; on my way into town;
my thoughts carried an emotional load;
as the road suddenly dipped down.
The road reached the valley below;
crossing a bridge; over a stream;
I recalled a tragedy; a few years ago;
where its waters ended a dream.
The stream; shallow water and mud;
with a bridge; several feet above;
one day, the stream, became a flood;
drowning a man; others love.
His car; washed off; into the water;
there seemed, simply no way;
looking for him was too much bother;
he was found; dead; the next day.
Friends were left with a memory;
to this day; friends still cry;
death hides within nature’s treachery;
it was a lonely place to die.
Many attempt to prepare for death;
it’s a table; not easily set;
very seldom do we see a last breath;
only silence; then regret.
Death is rarely a sentence; pronounced;
we’re usually left, to ask why;
death is a surprise; coming unannounced;
at a lonely place to die.
Monty 12.16.25. # 3,114