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?
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
ann johnson-murphree 