Highway 109
Highway 109 A drunk man in an Oldsmobile, They said, had run the light That caused the six-car pileup On 109 that night. When broken bodies lay about And blood was everywhere, The sirens screamed out elegies, For death was in the air. A mother, trapped inside her car, Was heard above the noise; Her plaintive plea nearly split the air: “Oh, God, please spare my boys!” She fought to lose her pinned hands; She struggled to get free, But mangled metal held her fast. In grim captivity. Her frightened eyes then focused. On where the back seat once had been, But all she saw was broken glass and Two children’s seats were crushed in. Her twins were nowhere to be seen; She did not hear them cry, And then she prayed they’d been thrown free, “Oh, God, don’t let them die!” Then firemen came and cut her loose, But when they searched the back, They found therein no little boys, But the seat belts were intact. They thought the woman had gone mad. And was travelling alone, But when they turned to question her, They discovered she was gone. Policemen saw her running wild. And screaming above the noise In beseeching supplication, “Please help me find my boys! They’re four years old and wear blue shirts; Their jeans are
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