TeensBernie Kyle Copyright, 2002
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It's not too late, just rising eight,
And tonight's the night it's on,
The end of year and party up,
The night of the Senior Prom.
They've got together 'fore the ball
All dressed up in their best,
There's finger food, a joyous mood,
And a drink or two, you guessed.
The music drums, a guitar strums,
There's sneaky Alcopop,
The voices rise above the din
And the deafening Bebop.
A good time's being had by all,
As the time arrives to go,
To the much awaited old school ball,
For young lasses and their beaux.
So its down the path and into cars,
With engines revved to roar,
There's no seat belts worn that's for sure,
When the pedals hits the floor.
The young bucks strive to beat their mates,
To hit the front at pace,
And though it wasn't scripted,
They're in The Great Car Race.
There's fearful screams and joyous shrieks,
From scared and whooped up kids,
For a chance to halt it, looking back,
We'd now pay quids and quids .
But the speed that thrills is the speed that kills,
And a car can't take the bend,
Six young folk have come to grief,
Young lives have reached their end.....
Epitaph
The VIGIL.
They stand each day by the Motorway,
They make no strident cry,
They remain a fleeting vision,
To those who speed on by.
They watch in mute observance,
And wave no hand on high,
Yet their misery is plain to see,
By all who've yet to die,
For the message clear, for all to hear,
In this Life of Gains & Losses,
Is one & all, please hark the Call,
From these small, White Wooden Crosses.
Mail the Blizzard Guy your thoughts