She arrives late,
White-blond hair awry
Mascara streaked with her distress
'I'm so sorry'
There was a smash..
Oh it was horrible,
The little car was mashed
in the ditch!'
Tears follow each other down her young face
I comfort and calm
And we turn to the day.
As we load up, I point out goldfinches,
bright and unheeding,
in the tree She smiles..
Then back along the same road
to crawl, police-directed
past the concertinaed wreckage.
I shudder to think it could have been
her young, untried life
wasted in the ditch.
And later, the song from how-long back
runs through my head
'Goodbye my friends, it's hard to die
when all the birds are singing in the sky...'