My Old Mate

I would like to get it straight in my head As he died in my arms I said Old mates who knew each other well Were riding around a bend to hell A bright sunny day in December And a nightmare I would always remember He cut a corner feeling good Taking one more chance than he should The truck was in its place And he hit the grill losing it all without grace I was right behind the mess And screamed to god to bless But it was all too late And death was there in his fate. © Paul Warren Poetry