Michelle's Blog, Blog, Blog

The Boy

I wrote this short poem for a boy I never knew. I found it when I came across one of my old journals. His name was Travis. Friday morning, hurridly, on my way to work when I noticed along the side of the road a tennis shoe, bike and bookbag. "Odd," I thought. "Why would a child stop there?" The shoe looked new in the short time I had to glance at it. I continued on my way to work, not giving it a second thought.
The next day in the paper I read the story about an 8-year old boy who was riding his bike to school when he was struck by a car and killed. And the driver never stopped. The spot where he was killed was exactly where I had noticed the tennis shoe, bike and bookbag. I couldn't speak and I started trembling. I took the paper out to my husband, Sean and pointed to the story. "I drove by him, I saw his stuff on the side of the road," barely audible over my cries. "I should have stopped or called the police," I said frantically. "How could you have known that a boy was there," Sean said as he wrapped his arms around me. I slumped into his chest, tears flooding his shirt. Then I selfishly thought how I would handle seeing a child possibly dead or dying. Maybe I could have comforted him so he would not have died alone. "How could someone do that? How could someone drive away knowing they hit a child on a bike?" I cried all day and when they started a fund to cover the funeral expenses at the local bank, I contributed though it did not fill the emptiness I felt for him. The police did catch the driver from a name that someone called in. There were no follow-up stories, only the images of Travis and his tennis shoe, bike and bookbag will be forever with me.
I wonder how many passed by
And didn't notice
The lone bike
The one, new tennis shoe
And bookbag
Laying on the side of the road
I wonder how many passed by
And did see
Something that just wasn't right
Is compassion and love lost?
Some too involved
Was I in such a hurry
To brush it off
Such a fragile life
A child
A tragic end
To die alone
I wonder who?
I wonder how?
But most of all
I wonder why.