Excerpt from poem “Lost”…

Lost Little Girl

I do not know if you are alive or dead.

I see your face your voice never

forgotten.

The sun does not rise in the morning, nor

fade into the west without a thought of you.

I mourn, nights are sleepless and morning

eyes fill with fire.

No one more cherished, more loved, my

heart bears scars of torture.  Where are you

my lost little girl?

 

ann Johnson-murphree’s E-books at

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