(04 October 1943 / Germany)

The Winding Road

Bergfreiheit township
was near the rainy forest
of prickly thistles.

We did our thing there
with heavy motorcycles
and local sheilas.

Our teachers loved us
they never had to worry
our grades were perfect.

And then, one morning
it was before the sunrise
two hit a tree and perished.

It was the last day
of the school year at Easter
dad came to fetch him.

The school director
whose job it was to tell him
was pale and crying.

The cops reported
that bone-white brain was hanging
on that big willow.

The weekend after
our gang of eight big racers
broke a new record.

When my friend Eggie
flew off my Heinkel Scooter
he first went flying.

We then collided
some minutes after launching
on terra firma.

It seemed like ages
he landed on my back then
we were so crazy.

Twenty years later
we held a class re-union
were reminiscing.

In Eggie's Porsche
we raced right by the willow
slid 'round the corner.

Where was the devil
who had claimed two of ours
he must have missed us.

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Comments (2)

I have never used an alias. That's for dishonest people. Thank you for reading my poetry.
Commenting on one's own poem is so classless Herbie...why don't you retire Baxter like you promised in the forum? AEN