Jane Doe
Just a few broken bits of bone
Some scraps of cloth and a hair or two
Marked and placed in plastic bags
Is all that remains of you
Wild dogs took all the rest
From what little they could obtain
They pieced like a jigsaw puzzle
And now they call you Jane.
Sketch artist captured well
That girlish grin that gentle curl
As your composite un-identified you
Eighteen to twenty-one, front page girl.
But I knew it took more than snow
To cover you as your trail of footprints
DNA was more than enough to show
As your forensic finger now points.
Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.