A joyous ride that it should be,
Just you and me and the other three.
The music loud and pounding in my head,
Before we know it we’ll all be dead.

So much chatting and carrying on,
We’ll drive all night through to dawn.
I can’t make sense of what you say,
If only we knew this may be our last day.

Don’t look back to hear my ode,
Pay attention and watch the road.
Stop looking back here at me,
Look ahead, can’t you see the tree?

I love my parents and my brothers too,
Who knew their eyes would fill with dew?
What a joyous ride that it should be,
The last thing I said was, “Goodbye to me.”

~Dena Collins~