Sappy Sunday: Slow Down, Son

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He watched her brush her hair, reached out to touch
It but the vision faded. Daydreams do
That. He missed her so deeply and so much
Each day, and all day long. He’d muddle though
This one as well, try not to watch the clock
Instead he had to keep eyes on the road
Or else he’d end up like her. As a flock
Of sheep crossed right in front of him, he slowed.
‘Twas such as these that nearly killed her — well
A deer at any rate. One deer, one car…
Best not to think of that. Here came some swell
Behind the wheel of something red. Bizarre
He flashed his lights; the speeder slowed right down.
He’d spared somebody from what made him frown.

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