O’ what sorrows hang under the placid moon,
Beguiled as we wait before an open tomb.
Unexpectedly passing in horrid way,
O’er the hilltop, contorted and lifeless you lay.
Cowardly murderer ran with haste from his deed,
Hiding as rats will do in thicket and weed.
Hide from God! You most certainly cannot,
Judgement at the gates will harshly begot.
O’ dear Alicia…how young and innocent you were,
Just a child– Undeserving of a life to pass as a blur.
While the foul miscreant thrives and lives on,
Corrupt of conscience, never considered you were gone.
O’ how the parents grieve for their little lost soul,
All while this pariah slithers into Satan’s black hole.
Squalid tomb– Why take solace in so young a life?
So cold, so final, no comfort to the progenitors strife!
Judgement befitting the crime, our earthly courts did not levy,
Cries for hanging be raised at the hands of a justified bevy.
No! Justice in this lifetime is not to be,
Pray God, Hell’s hanging tree hath a place for he.
As the tomb eternal be sealed from the light,
Candles pay homage to a life once so bright.
A place be laid for you Alicia…at the foot of God’s throne,
For all to take comfort that you will never be alone.
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~