BETTER LATE THAN NEVER(Cold Case #3)

  BETTER LATE THAN NEVER       

In this box I now exist, Contents,

With a twist and still in pain.

A life
left in clovers and clearly when turned Over,

Cause of
death is easily explained.

I was
sixteen and still young

A life
as a teenager full of fun,

When
death came tipping my way.

It was
early Monday morning

A day
set in June, when she

Entered
with such a sashay

She as I,
still quite young and

With a
smile, as bright as the sun

But no
one cared, of the red clay.

She had
fooled them thus far

Stylish
cloths and new car

Though
the spoils of her kill,

 I thus lay

As she
entered the classroom,

She as
my wife and I as her groom.

Was all
that entered my mind?

Like a
child mesmerized,

I had
felt, found my prize,

As a
clover of four,

Refused
its find.

Like
candy she fancied my eye,

To get
to know her, I must try,

This
time tomorrow, we’ll be old news.

Soon as
she passed, by my way

Continue
only, could I say,

She’s
lovely from her head to her shoes.

So when
she glanced I did stare,

Just to
show her, I did care.

As she
seated in a desk nearby.

Her
interest she has showed,

My mind
has she blown

If a
bird and I had wings

I would
fly.

So after
class she did share

Some
special moments she I spared

In the
pub shop around the corner

From
school

When
right became wrong and

All
night life began to call

Her
games began to breed, new rules

Remember
me this day

The old
games you once played,

Though
to me, now you are blind

It was
way back then,

At a
time when I was ten and

To me
you were nowhere near kind

So once again
we have met

On this
day I call the bet and

Yet this
meeting was no accident.

It was
me that you hurt,

As you
ripped away my skirt

Then you
raped me and,

The
hospital was where I was sent.

I had
told you back then

That
we’d meet once again

And your
day would be that of no shine

And on
that given day

I would
be the one to say

Now
you’d be the one left behind.

So if
you all are not aware

My body
was left there

In the
marshes of red clay and three clovers

So when
my body is once found

I’ll be
laying here on the ground

And I’ll
be waiting with a gun shot

When
rolled over.

     Jim            

 All copyrights Reserved to the author of this poem.