Junior and me, he was twenty-five, I was twenty-seven.
We met through his mother who was a friend of mine.
He stayed with me for a while and it was heaven.
After a few months had passed, he went home to stay.
I finally realized he was much too young for me.
He had a lot of growing up he needed to achieve.
We parted as friends because he agreed,
there were more wild oats he needed to sew.
One Friday night at 2:30 AM, I was asleep and content,
I heard him calling my name over and over again.
His voice was filled with agony and pain, I didn’t know what it meant,
and I was shaken to the depths of my soul by that awful sound .
Friends stayed up the rest of the night with me, I was berserk.
I dared not close my eyes for fear that I would hear his voice once more.
That next morning I called my friend at work,
she wasn't there and I really needed to talk to her.
The person who answered the phone said to me without a warning,
didn't anyone told you what happened to Junior.
He was killed in a car wreck at 2:30 this morning.
And then I knew what he was trying to tell me, he was dying.
Copyright © 2007 Sylvia A. Feeley All Rights Reserved