A squeak of a bus door,
Pierces chatter of tiny voices,
Engine grumbles to an awkward stop –
My new friend balances to his feet.
Pulling green, seat corners while passing by,
A shy smile and softly whispered, “Bye”,
Chris bounces down steps with a little hop,
to a corner where he crosses the street.
An ungreased squeak and slapping of doors,
Her impatient eyes peer through a noisy headache,
Runny nose, lunch box and left shoe untied,
A trapped shoelace trips this kindergartner’s gait.
Scooby-Doo lunch box crashes open,
A little boy splashes into the hot, black street,
Before her taken breath could exhale,
Red-lightning, a skidding thud; tires atop shoeless feet.
Terrified eyes catch mine,
“Watch the bus!”, she mouths to me,
Her heart-wrenched screams of “Help!”
“Get blankets!”, then silence, as all turn to see…
“My baby!”, “My baby!” shatters the quiet,
A rush to cover body,
A small huddle catches a grieving mother,
While a strange, rush of peace covers me.
Years darkened by nightmares,
Wakening to saying the Lord’s prayer,
Yet, since Chris, I believed all would be well,
For peace stares unhesitatingly into Death’s glare.
I miss you friend. RIP Christopher Corbett, 1971
By Chris Clody