Oh, their momma found them before the morning sun.
She saw them, down by the river.
Her two beautiful children.
Brother and sister.
Neither one breathing.
Mommas screaming, pleading.
“Lord don't take them from me!”
But it's too late, their souls have moved on.
She found them, dead by the river.
Her two beautiful children.
Brother and sister.
Victims of a lynching, an unlawful killing.
Mommas weeping.
“Have a little mercy.”
She found them before the morning sun, their souls already gone.
Her two beautiful children.
Brother and sister.
Dead by the river.
About the Creator
Tørnvec™
With every word written, I breathe easier.
The Singer So Shy
She stood near the cold fireplace, watching the second-hand tick down to the hour. In another minute, the clock's bird would emerge and warble the hour. She reached up and touched the clock, tracing the gentle slope of the farmhouse roof, then trailing down the lilac strewn side, to the white fence framed dooryard. She wished she was there, where the air would smell of lilacs rather than smoke.
By Judah LoVato7 days ago in Fiction
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