I wrote this poem after a few stories in the news about street racing deaths in my town. Many of the victims weren't even part of the race, they were just innocent motorists driving the other direction.
I wanted to share this, hoping people will realize that what they might leave behind is far more important than the few seconds of triumph.
Here's the poem...please share it:
She Cries a Little More...
He just can't get enough, next week will be the same,
He always gets a late night call, but he never says a name.
So she lies awake at midnight, like she does most every week,
Her son is heading out again, tears are rolling down her cheek.
She knows just where he's going, but she lies there very still.
She's asked him to stay home before, but she knows he never will.
She hears his car keys rattle, as he heads out through the door,
She softly says, "I love you son", and then she cries a little more.
She never spoke about his dad, and wonders if she should.
He used to be a racer too, they all said that he was good.
One night he had a challenge, from this kid from out of town,
Supercharged with nitrous, he just couldn't turn it down.
So they went up to old Firehouse, and they lined up in the street.
Engines revved and they all knew, this was a race of the elite.
As the flagman dropped his hands, tires spun, they left the line,
Down the road they were neck and neck, you could hear the blowers whine.
But somewhere in the distance, before the lights could disappear,
They heard a crash and saw the flames: street racing's biggest fear.
When the doorbell rang at 3 a.m., life would change forever more,
For a pregnant woman home alone, as she opened up the door.
He said, "I'm sorry ma'am...", and she knew that he was gone.
She rushed out through the doorway, and fell crying on the lawn.
It's been so many years, since she's ever felt so sad,
And now her son, at seventeen, is street racing like his Dad.
She just can't pray enough, that his life won't be the same.
She fears she'll get a late night call, from a cop without a name.
So she's lied awake since midnight, like she does most every week,
Her son is out real late again, tears are rolling down her cheek.
She knows just where he's been, and she lies there very still.
She worries he won't make it home, but now she knows tonight he will.
She hears his car keys rattle, as he walks in through the door,
She softly says, "I love you son"...and then she cries a little more.
Be well...
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