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The Unsupervised Stop Sign

They rode to matches in an old school bus.
The rookies at the front, old players in back,
the coach, by the driver, "she's one of us!".
Wore team colors out, came home wearing black.

An ice hockey team, the pride of Humbolt,
met a 40 ton semi that just didn't break.
Sixteen young players' futures bought to a halt
by a worn out driver, barely awake.

Six thousand people in that prairie town,
a whole nation cried for their sons that night,
but not enough tears the sorrow to drown,
of a mother sobbing, eyes wet, throat tight.

Think on your kids, playing sport, feeling fine,
then think on the loss at lonely stop sign.

Copyright © Tom Pickering

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Book: Shattered Sighs