You had the widest eyes
and the biggest smile
the day you died.

I can remember well
the sound of chattering children
and clattering school bags
and rushing, rushing traffic.

And you were smiling and laughing;
it had been a good day.
You opened your mouth to say -
I don't know what. Because you tripped
right into the way
of the rushing, rushing traffic.

All those cars should have stopped.
The people should have stopped talking.
The birds should have stopped singing.
The school bell should have stopped ringing.

But everything carried on.

The world slowed down a fraction
but didn't stop.
It just went on with life
as if everything were fine
the day you died.