Old Mates

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

friendshipballad

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