For Wanda DeWitt
A silver white moon lit the night sky.
The peaceful earth was asleep.
Yet evil hid behind the nearest star
as she saw men in white approaching from afar.
Her heart beat fast; their hate was hot,
too hot for her to bear.
She sat with the moon as he started to cry.
She asked him why?
He said, “Be still my child and look up,
for the stars have begun to melt.”
This poem was written about a fictional character, Wanda DeWitt, for my first
novel, Willow Creek.