The Green River
The river lazily ran through the lovely pasture scene.
Poets wrote their pretty poems about the river’s charms,
Carrying its living water, reflecting purest green
As lovers sat upon its banks, locked in each other's arms.
Way back in nineteen Eighty Two, idly pleasure boating,
He chanced on unexpected sight of homicidal death.
This man discovered horror beneath the surface floating,
So shocking to his senses that he almost lost his breath.
He’d discovered the first body of victims known to date
Of dread Green River killer, Gary Ridgeway is his name.
Sixteen years to catch him, the murders stand at forty-eight.
With waters tinged with red, the pretty river’s not the same.
Won no. 4 in contest
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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