Smiling her cherry red smile, the child poses with her china faced doll, prim Victorian hair of burnished brown, gleaming. Daily, her gaze follows my progress downstairs and, from behind her shield of glass, she whispers, 'Good morning.'
***

'A penny for them?' he asked so, picking up a butcher's knife, she sliced open the top of her head and, after all her thoughts had tumbled out, she demanded that he gave her that penny.

***

Sitting in her cell, she stares at a concrete wall adorned with rural pictures. She shivers as a blizzard freezes her body, her clothes but she cries for the starving buzzard.