Edith Lo Bue

Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA

My Grandson

The teenager chatters to his dad
As he speeds the interstate and brags
About how fast he drives his car
He hears his nagging grandmother say, "Luck, so far".
His mother sits behind him and prays
That he'll come to his senses and stop this craze
Later, she'll take him off and chew him out
And suffer in agony as they shout
She'll ask him to vision a scene on the side of the road
Two little girls and a teenager robbed of a chance to grow old
How can we reach this boy before it's too late
Get him to understand that lives are not his to take
Shall we explain the distance objects travel after impact
And tell him that is a proven fact
Will he listen as we preach
Keeping him and others alive is what we seek
I hope he gets the message and lives a very long time
To write his grandson such caring messages in rhyme.
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