They found her by the river
Her body face down and cold
No one believed it could happen
She was twenty five year’s old.

She had been at a friend’s apartment
She was walking two blocks home
She was wearing headphones in her ears
She was walking all alone.

He stopped her, asked for money
She took a dollar from her pocket
Her grabbed her arm, shoved her hard
She begged him please, please stop it.

Into an alley, between the dumpsters
He stabbed her several times
He dragged her body like a rag doll
Laid it down by the riverside.

No 911, no witnesses
He went thru her small red purse
Took the cash, the money
We doubt this was his first.

Credit cards left behind
He knew he could be traced
He wore gloves and a black hoody
He’d been seen around her place.

Was this a cruel vendetta?
A stalker on the prowl?
Or a homeless schizophrenic
Whose night had run a afoul?

An undercover agent
Set the stage for a re-run
This time he faced the barrel
The barrel of her gun.

He was arrested in the alley
Had returned to the scene of the crime
He thought he’d get away with it
But, he was caught in the act this time.


Image from Google Images: Williamsburg-Body-Scene.jpg

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

9 thoughts on “WALKING HOME ALONE”

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