A decade ago
your smile was eternally
sequestered.
Evil flew in and drew
a heart on the palm
of your left hand.
A broken paintbrush
mocked your perfect palette
when it was used as a garrote
handle
To string a chord
that looked like white lace
when it was furrowed into
your pristine
neck.
Snow would not fall
beneath the feet of such
hatred,
as no tracks were left
to guide the way to justice,
Until now.
Green eyes and a curled
Adornment of gold—
A radiate visage
Of a six-yr-old
Child,
Girl,
Loved in death,
Lived in heaven
Resting with the angels
—At long last.
With her mother beside
her they sleep in peace
in all their beauty.
s./j. goldner
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jonbenet-s-final-heur/
