"The Crash"

The crash which came
Post curling-game,
Was not from cars
Abreast of ours –

But from the post –
Though we were toast,
I did not see
Where crash would be –

Because abreast
Was, nonetheless,
Far most exposed,
So stress arose –

For me right there –
I was aware
That I’d get hit;
Might die from it.

We’d braced our arms
To lower harm;
No seat-belt mine,
Post curling-time.

Abreast? They swerved;
The miss assured
We heaved a sigh;
Relaxed was I –

When post we hit;
Walked off from it;
Our driver? Drunk;
My view? A skunk.

Thanks Lord for this.

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