Red Gloves

The boat ride, upon the river, a day of play, and beauty, I grin

The mirror of the trees, moving with the waves, my hat tied tightly under my chin

This stranger, I just met, though he lured me in, he brought a picnic basket

He opened up a bottle of wine, and we toasted to the time, he reached over

Touched my hair, then grabbed me oh so tight, with wet moist lips, we kissed

Then suddenly he became angry, pulling  me down, he grabbed an oar

Stood up, shouting, like a mad man, he was swinging at me, I screamed

Then the blow to my head, the pool of blood, filling the bottom up, I could not swim

My gloves, became red, I became very cold, my last moments, with a stranger

A monster, the venture ended, I left a check stub, with my name and address

Floating in a pill bottle, down the Mississippi River, hoping the law would catch him

Red gloves will be my evidence, his crime, my murder