God gosh, Miss. Molly!

It was a time of plenty, a time of need
Weed
Intense blue skies
Tweed
And little Miss Molly skipped the stones in a vacant way
At the quarters where the police stay
In her quint little pants
That foresaw the future.

Many years away, the to-be murderer
Lurked in the lantana
Gnawing his nails in feverish hunger
And the gold chain came into view
Glinting on feminine charms
That rode the day
A beacon of hope
And Molly whistled her song
As she tripped down the hillside
A carefree orphan
In red and khaki
Eyes glinting in the sun
Bearer of tales
Saluter of flags.

In a flash it was done
And rubies spewed across the leaves
Only a bubbling gasp
As sister Angeline walked up the hill
The tiny little lady, loved
Wrinkled face of immense grace
And resolute she was
Was.
The bloody scene, a face frozen in shock
The horror of it all
And Molly little dolly
Rooted to the ground
Screamed
Anger
Her policeman father, deceased
It hung on the air forever
And echoed in the hills
Witnesses abounded
At a moment in time
When no eyes should have seen
The confluence of fates.
Children and their fears
More parents on the roads
The air was thick with rumour
And he was caught.

Molly, she’s seen the world
Sister Angeline too
Idiot savant and saint
Sisters of the knife
Life.