Poetry by Jeff Green

1799–Her_Crime.html

Her Crime

by cricketjeff on February 20, 2009.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Every evening after sunset I observe her as she stares
      From the window where she watched me long ago.
I would pander to her passions as she fed me little dares,
      And I dreamed of all the futures I would know.

Every night I see her stretching, then she stands and walks to bed,
      In the house where she was born next door to mine.
As I grew I watched her changing and a thought grew in my head;
      I matured it in the way the French do wine.

Every night as she undresses I can sense her sense of fear,
      As it grows and fills her mind with dark and cold.
For the night does not forgive her or her shade of yesteryear,
      Just eighteen and yet her soul was swiftly sold.

For she teased me in her garden with the promise of a kiss
      And a twinkle in her eyes I can’t forget.
Though she never could imagine that we’d find ourselves like this,
      As the night sky turns the shade of Whitby Jet.

For her promises lay broken and my heart was laid aside
      And my life became a sham I couldn’t live.
After one more night of teasing, when my pleadings were denied,
      I had given all the love that I could give.

Now I see her every evening, as an image in my mind
      And I see the knife I used to end my dreams,
And I can’t forgive her tauntings and I can’t leave her behind
      And I can not lose the terror of her screams.

Though they said that I was guilty, I am sure she was to blame
      And her ghost must pay the price for all her crime.
I can see her every evening as she keeps on with her game
      Although I’m locked inside this cell to serve my time.