He’d argued with his brother,
Who knows what got his goat?
 
And deciding he would run away,
Put on his hat and coat.
 
Mother gently took him by the arm,
To soothe her little son.
 
She tried to calm his anger
And undo what had been done.
 
Dangerous Dan, they called him,
For he was a gentle guy.
 
It seemed a perfect nickname
As he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
 
Yet he hurt his mom that night,
He could see it in her tears.
 
His mother spoke so softly,
And he still refused to hear.
 
Dangerous never got to run away
From their farm house on that night.
 
His brother came and stopped him
And he made up for their fight.
 
Nearly fifty years ago that was,
I remember when I try.
 
But I can’t forget that first time,
When I saw my mother cry.

Copyright© 2009 Dan Wright