Lemonade

September 24, 2010
By Anonymous

That girl left home
three weeks past
Then
mother left
Five days next
—Her father mad
killed the boy
his sister cherished
only—
and raging-anguish-tears sister
knelt and
Stared at glassy eyes and pity
broke
she stood soon over father
and then his
statue form
and now beneath the
dancing trees
she weeps and sips
stolen sour lemonade.

Her mother finds her
frozen
whispering
"brother,
I regret."

The author's comments:
The product of faulty heating, rain, and sour lemonade on a day when I really should've had coffee.

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