You crashed into a car in front of me.
The crunch of metal
down my spine.
I braked hard,
and stopped short;
time stopped with us.
Thick fog cloaked the wreckage.
When it had cleared,
you were standing by the side of the road,
screaming as you cradled her
in your arms;
to tell her she was safe,
but she could only sense your fear.
I wanted so badly to get out and help you,
but with half of London pressing at my door
I had to drive on by.