A story through connected poems

The Poisoned Rose

In the dark corners of Soho
Where screams will go unheard
A lady saw her last breath drawn
One cold September night

She was a woman for men’s pleasure
Whose name was simply Rose
Found by a passing policeman
What had become this woman’s plight

There was no sign of struggle
No blood had stained the ground
A handkerchief rest in her hand
Suffocation perhaps the cause

He laid his coat across her
Some dignity for her at last
The policeman blew loud upon his whistle
Then again with a short pause.

Take Me By The Hand

It was then the policeman saw her
She’d been hiding in the dark
Her muddy face concealed her years
But was nearer five than ten

Terror gripped this helpless child
Was she guilty of this crime
More likely the events to befall her eyes
The wicked way of men

The policeman offered out his hand
With tenderness his words
His only thought was her salvation
From this cruel and bitter world

Perhaps she saw of Rose’s demise
The one that took her life
But first her trust he’d have to win
As in his arms she curled.

If I Could See What You See

All the things that Rose had done
Just to make some coin
This girl had seen through such young eyes
Her innocence had gone

Hatred lurked within her gaze
As the other policemen came
They questioned her of things she’s seen
And of whom she did belong

It was her mother laying there
She’d seen her take her final breath
She hugged her till the policeman came
And terror found her a hiding place

Within her eyes a vision came
The villain of this night
She feared him so the words dried up
Amongst those around was his face.

The Eternal Wait

Fear had gripped this child tight
No words she’d utter forth
Her mother’s killer was one of them
They were supposed to uphold the law

Days rolled by and no words she spoke
Despite the time now passed
Her life she feared if she spoke out
Of the things that night she saw

The eternal wait would never end
Would she take him to her grave
What little trust had once been built
Had died that cold September night

She did not respect the uniform
When it could still do evil things
In years to come there’d be revenge
For the plight of her sweet mother Rose.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown 

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