Jane Doe
The soft kiss of spring long past first brushed her face.
Since; ravages of winters by the score had left their trace
upon this bedraggled body to which no one laid a claim.
All hint of where or who she was, erased when found
laid gently by the church upon the hallowed ground
in desperate hope that some god her soul would claim.
Somewhere a lonely family lost in guilt would mourn;
between the living, dead, funeral or food was torn.
Another victim of our times, the papers claim.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
