He recalls...

He recalls his youth and the celebrations and tragedies that were the norm.
He recalls his first love, her soft legs and her over willing smile.
He recalls the accident called a murder that no one sees all the while.
This is not your fault, she says, you were not driving, though you were our leader, attempting to make us something of style.
He broods, he ponders, though remembers the night in full, because the incident is all on file.
Why did he leave without a trace, leaving those he thought he loved the most; because death on one’s shoulders is hard to bare, no matter how hard the penetrating stares.
When he is about to fall asleep, he thinks again about this worthy smile.
It is those dark eyes, those witty sayings, that face anyone would love all the while.
You left in time before its too late; loving all those things that have become third rate.
But let us not forget our first love and our last, though do not forget those witty sayings and deep brown eyes.
He recalls it is Friday night, and she is long and gone, think of her still, and never ever notice to hear their song.