STRAWBERRY SEASONS

by BlueRick Solomon
Copyright 8/'09

She ate wild strawberries on a hot summer day,
In the castle where she killed so many.

Sweet juice running red, down her mouth and chin,
Sang her cares away, until she hadn't any.

Hundreds of virgins from country and town,
Those that knew, dared not speak.

The long shadows of rank have their privilege,
Avoiding what innocence seeks.

     Glorify the killer, drawn to her games,
     What of the victims? What were their names? 
  
     Fruit fed by blood; sweet, rich, and red,
     Strawberry seasons of the dead.

Blood stoked her insatiable desire,
Never ending, the Blood Countess to blame.

Until they locked her in a cell, where she died,
And then sang songs in her name.

Life goes on, it always will,
Before, during, and after.

Sun shines, rain falls...and the screams...
The memories of her insane laughter.
 

     Glorify the killer, drawn to her games,
     What of the victims? What were their names?    

     Fruit fed by blood; sweet, rich, and red,
     Strawberry seasons, of the dead.