Melted, based on local murder Options

[Guest_Don_*]

MELTED

His grandparents shot in bed;
Both at rest, bloody dead.
Odious sight for a boy of four,
too sick instead to play anymore.

He ran a very long mile
to relay grim reaper’s smile,
“They’re melting,” he implored,
“like ice cream flows on floor.”

For this child also knew
his life was a puddle too.
Now his link to love is loss;
Society assigned a foster boss.


--Don Holmes
1 April 2003

[Guest_Zeus˛_*]

Don,
we know it wasn't the butler. This poem would have made a very ironic sidebar in the local newspaper. Child's description of murder.
A subtle piece.
Larry z2