Roadkill

Middle of the road, or somewhere in between, Over and beyond, is where I should’ve been, Living in the undergrowth Staying more or less unseen Now a piece of roadkill, belly up hasbeen. As you drive on by, Spare a thought for me. Stuck to the highway, baking in the sun, Flies all around me, least they’re having fun, Getting flatter by the minute, almost dried out, A splat of bloodied hair, unrecognizable beyond doubt, As you cycle past, spare a thought for me. Saw an open space, with some shiny lights, Looked quite innocuous, in dark of the night, Could hear friendly calls, from the other side, Off I went a trotting, for the last time of my life, As you see me disintegrate, Spare a thought for me. A blinding beam of light, heading straight my way, To late I can’t go forward, or scurry back into the hay, Absolutely no idea what hit, Just burst like a bubble, Ants are everywhere now, Rejoice! the man with a shovel. As you see me scraped up, Spare a thought for me, By David Kavanagh