8 Years Old

This poem is based upon a true event that happened in late 2003 in MD. It speaks for itself really

Little, sweet Melinda
always wore her hair in twists,
and the day that she turned 8 years old
She got the gold bracelet,
she wears on her wrist.

 

8 years old

 

Her cheeks have deep dish dimples,
as warm as apple pie,
and I could swear that God created the stars
so they could be her eyes.

 

'I'm is a big person',
is what she'd always say,
and even thought she wasn't quite 4 feet tall,
she often got her way.

 

8 years old

 

She loves to read and write her name,
'And color and draw and sing.'
and she has a smile that if you set in gold,
it would be a diamond ring.

 

If you stood over her shoulder,
it would warm your heart to see the pictures that she drew,
'Of mommy and daddy and doggies and horsies...'
and her little brother too.

 

In her pictures the grass is always green
and the flowers are pink and yellow (her favorite colors) 
and she says the sun is always smiling,
'Cause he's a mellow fellow.'

 

8 years old

 

Her third grade teacher Ms. Graham
said that teaching her is a pleasure,
and if she had one Melinda in every class,
she'd love to teach forever.

 

She always did as she was told (well most of the time) 
but she never rolls her eyes,
her grand-dad picks her up from school everyday
and everyday they stop for fries (she loves french fries) 

 

8 years old

 

Thanksgiving is the last holiday
that I can remember they spent together,
but even though it was a little cold
I wouldn't really consider it bad weather.

 

She helped the women in the kitchen
prepare the feast the family would share,
candied yams, collard greens and turkey,
and grand-mom's biscuits, light as air.

 

She ate 'til her belly was as big as a turkey,
and just as golden brown,
but she'd always managed to save enough room
to get a slice of sweet potatoe pie down.

 

8 years old

 

Then she'd curl up in her grand-dad's arms,
her head upon his chest,
and she'd snuggle her nose up to his chin
and settle down to rest.

 

Before he'd carry her off to bed,
he'd take her close to see,
the twinkling greens and the blinking reds
when he lit the Christmas Tree.

 

8 years old

 

Melinda would race home from school everyday
in those first days of December,
to hang the ornaments she made upon the tree,
it pains me to remember.

 

As tragically one fateful day in December,
Melinda disappeared.
She wasn't seen in school and she never came home
and regretably the worst was feared.

 

All the candlight vigils,
and the pictures that were shown,
and all the pleading and praying in the world,
failed, to bring that baby home.

 

The lights on the tree slowy went out
and even the Christmas spirit faded.
Night and day passed without a word
as in agony her family waited.

 

A little pink pack was found near her school
but besides it, not a trace.
I swear that there's no sadder sight
than the tears on a mother's face.

 

Then one day the floodgates opened,
as little Melinda was found.
The silence of a treeline was shattered
by the wail of siren sounds.

 

Naked and blackened from being expose to the cold,
her body, battered and bruised,
and the only grief her killer spared,
was her innocence was unused.

 

8 years old

 

The tears she wept had frozen in place
as they welled in her eyes and ran down her face,
laughter and joy replaced by her screams,
her laughter, now confined to our dreams.

 

Christmas still came, as all knew it would
but with the saddness and sorrow everyone hoped to avoid.
So many gifts but, no Melinda to open,
friends and family stopped by with well wishing and hoping.

 

Her bed looks the same as the day she woke up,
her mother still fixes her lunch and pours juice in her cup.
I wish I could tell her, 'It's going to be all right',
but I picture me, in her place, and that wouldn't be right.

 

Little Melinda, her hair, still in twists,
gone from us forever, she sure will be missed.
Her eyes are the stars that only God can see now,
I just wish that her family could still hold her, somehow...

 

And see her smile that's a diamond
still set in gold,
Little...Sweet...Melinda...
Forever...

 

8 years old

 

By: Nathaniel Booker
'Genius under Construction'

© Nathaniel Booker

Reviews

[Bud]

It is not humanly possible to describe the sorrowful feelings that this Magnificently Powerful piece provokes from the reader's heart. I suppose it is not only the sadness of the subject matter, but that it is also based on a true event. An unbelievably moving poem. Thank you for sharing this Outstanding work of yours. Surely the Heavens are silent with tears...

[Jemma]

Omg that made me tear up. It was so happy, that I knew something bad was going to happen. :'-( So sad.
Flawless write.
Beautiful write

[deleted]

Wow! Very dark but intriguing. You are truly a stellar writer. This poem was sad but I wasn't able to stop reading about Melinda. As a mother, I could never phanthom losing a child. Once again, you have told a story that is inspirational. You will definitely reach your goal of becoming a published author because you make the reader drink every drop of your words, thoughts, and pain. I thank you for the beautiful gift that you possess. Keep exercising your gift!

[Destinee]

this is so sad. It started out so sweet but ended so despondently. It was a flawless write. Great Job.