A simple poem: devious plans


Storm (Photo credit: Moyan_Brenn)

She walks by the river

Slowly she treads

Scarf round her neck

Hat on her head

Just a slither of light

Falls down on her face

With eyes cast low

She picks up her pace

Storm clouds now gather

A bitter rain falls

Alone in a nightmare

No justice, no laws

The twenty first century

Held such hope

But now there is nothing

To keep her afloat

She smiles at a stranger

Who hurries right by

This child from a manger

Condemned to die

Loved ones will mourn her

Tears will be shed

Those without honour

Brought forth her sad death

Her blood on their hands

Yet they show no remorse

Their deviant plans

Drowned out her life force