September 22nd 2015 | Poetry
The following was written when the town that I had lived in, experienced the disappearance of a little girl. The entire town rallied together to search for her, to no avail. Some days later, she was found. Many people desired that the bridge where she had been found, be renamed.
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.
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.
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.
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.