Sara’s Bridge

by Cheryle Boyle

 Daddy kissed me, snuggled my blanket,

And smiled at Fred Flintstone on my

Nightie, as he tucked me in.

Early Sunday morning, about 1:00 a.m.

Mommy came home and tried to find me then.

Sara, Sara

She entered my room. Stale air from the

Broken window slapped her face. The moon,

Upon my bed, left a hollow glow. My blanket

And I were missing. Fred Flintstone

Never left a trace.

Sara, Sara

By morning the world knew I was lost.

The newspapers rang Sara Sydney, three

Years old and missing! Local and Federal

Officials assisted in the sleuthing. Tears

And prayers promised to answer our wishing.

Sara, Sara

One week later, a kind man stands over me,

Comforting my soul. I lay, face-down

Floating in water, below a bridge. No longer

Someone you’d know. For me, everyone had looked

High and low. Tears and prayers embellished with cares.

The bridge should carry my name the kind man and

Many proclaimed. A life so young, lost to death.

It’s a shame! The killer still out there to

Be found. He hides and waits; while over the

name of the bridge many debate.

Sara’s Bridge.