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Click hereJust a paragraph in the local paper
of somebody's wedding, but I knew his brother,
back in the days of virginity and Mods and Rockers.
I was a Rocker really but he looked so cute
in his parka on the scooter his daddy bought him,
the one he died on.
I still see his face and remember how I flirted
just to ride behind him, I wasn't in his social standing really
but I looked the part with flowing blonde hair.
Good enough to be his girl till her went away to uni
and left me behind.
He sold his scooter, rode it to the new owner,
I wasn't his girl then so they told me afterwards.
Wasn't a mark on his body where he died in the road.
Poetry Survivor
Poets Choice
Wow. That is a good poem. It touched me and made me nostalgic. I like your biographical stuff.