Poem: The Washed-Out Bridge

The Sheep Guide

Boldly down the road he speeded,
signs and warnings all unheeded,
his lovely princess by his side,
hoping to enjoy the ride.

While just ahead, and out of sight,
the washed-out bridge, in dark of night,
its jaws wide open, eyes fixated,
silently, patiently awaited

their soon arrival - Oh, the joy!
that could have been, but now this boy,
with reckless disregard did choose,
to believe that he would never lose

his life; but soon - tonight - he would, indeed,
surrender life and speed,
to jaws of death that would with glee,
remand them to eternity.

And as another sad tale ends,
yet even worse than it pretends,
alas! it's really not about
a car, a speed, a drive about;

but the car, his life; the speed, his pride;
the lovely princess, his future bride,
a gift of God he would have cherished,
if on this night they hadn’t perished!

And the washed-out bridge? Christ rejected,
lives and faith left uninspected.
The crevice into which they fell?
The entrance to the gates of hell.