The Sign at the End of our Street

(A Slightly Seussical Saying, for Stop Sign Obeying)

By G. E. Shuman

We have a red sign, at the end of our street.

It says the word STOP, in white letters so neat.

I think it’s a law, that when seeing that sign,

A driver must do what that sign has in mind.

To slow, and to look, when approaching a ‘T’

In the road is just part of what driving should be.

When you come to that sign, to avoid the police

You should always try stopping and looking, at least.

Because there are cars full of other folks, still,

And sometimes they speed when up-climbing that hill

That meets with the street that goes right past our place.

It’s as if, for some reason, they’re running a race.

To see who can win, with their slowing, not stopping

To get to the store, to start grocery shopping.

It hardly seems worth the dear price you might pay

If someone gets injured on one sad ‘someday’

When your car gets crumpled and bent up and beat

Because you just had to be first on the street.

It seems pretty sad, at the end of the race

To learn that two cars cannot share just one space.

And, once in a while, whether good or bad weather

At the end of our street, two cars will come together.

And then come the sirens and bright flashing lights

And other cars stop, to see if all’s alright.

Big trucks take some folks for a hospital stay

While bigger ones haul all the metal away.

And then people talk about what they had seen

When passing the place of the accident scene.                                                                                

     

More cars are made daily, delivered brand new

But there’s just one copy of me and of you.

So, to keep yourself safe, and to keep your car neat

PLEASE stop at the sign at the end of our street.