Twelve Years Later

Poetry 
I was going about my day
When the memory of that fatal crash
Was suddenly there

Unfolding behind my eyes
As if someone had pushed play

The smell of Vermont spring
Coolness of the hardwood floors
The purple and green of the lilacs

The horror on Mom’s face
As I told her…

There is no need to go on
The story has been
Replayed a thousand times
Published