About the Poem
Drunk-driving is bad. A description that gets right to the point. If spirits could talk, if spirits could attend their own funerals, if they could do it all again. Hindsight is 20/20 they say. And this little blurb has definitely got that 20/20 vision mixed in.
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|by Philip Zemler|
I drift unnoticed
Amongst friends and lovers
Gazing deeply into
The teary eyes of mourners.
Memories mix with reality
As twisted metal played in a movie,
With shattering glass
As the soundtrack.
A ray of sun breaks the heavy air,
Stirring me from my reverie,
And makes the dull wood finish
Shine like polished ivory.
I watch the speaker's mouth move,
Slow motion lips produce no sound.
My hand goes to my head
As headlights came quickly closer,
And he shouted his last,
And I heard my last.
I fade back into reality
Approaching the glass-fronted casket.
I tarry to sniff complacently
At the bright red rose laying there,
As I remember the one I received that night.
We danced our lives away,
Moving to a music unique to our world.
I peer into my face.
So alive, so alive.
Yet so quiet.
I peer into my soul.
And watch as we drank too much,
And smoked too much,
While we listened to music
And danced our lives away;
On down that one-way road
That only led to bright lights.
That were quickly extinguished,
As were ours.
I peer into my heart
As my spirit fades,
Dropping the rose to the ground.