The last time I saw you we were just kids...
your mom was remarried; you had a new dad—
it was summer vacation and we had plans
things to do;
I was to spend a week with you.
The radio was playing when I awoke
voices in the kitchen, clearly upset...
I heard the news come over the air:
“While visiting her grandparents
young girl involved in accident…”
At first it didn’t register, but then I knew
that the ‘young girl’ was you.
You were the daughter my uncle never had
your mom clearly someone that he adored;
I don’t know the reason why they split
maybe because he couldn’t commit.
...but that was for grown-ups, we were just kids.
The last time I saw you the world stood still;
how could the gods take someone so young?
A lasting impression of loss and of pain
...my heart still remembers you, now and again.
© Ginny Brannan 2017
Following a friend's lead: Day 23 of NaPoWriMo, writing a story or poem with the word "last" in the title. Just an excerpt from this life on the loss of a friend from my childhood— a memory from 1968, back in the days when helmets were not required when riding a bike. We'll never know if it would've saved her, but a really good reason and argument for the safety of all. In my memory, she remains just 11 years old...