A girl named Adeline - Adeline - poem

Midnight, and the moon cries.

It's a children's park

where once they played,

played and laughed

and died.

A rose sprouts from the ashes,

a darker black than the sky itself

to which fact the clouds grumble.

The gardens of nearby houses

are awash with light from neighbours too scared to dim them;

too scared of who, or what, might come for them

but nobody speaks their shared fears aloud.

This winter night is darker than the others,

the moon's malicious glare makes passers-by uneasy.

An echo dances like a child through the overgrown grass,

it spins and jumps and lands on dainty feet.

'Adeline' it whispers, 'Adeline, where are you?'

The swings creak as they're blown by the wind

But was it truly the wind that played in this playground?

It's midnight, and the moon cries.

It cries for lost lives and a lost little girl

who was here all along.

It cries a tear for every petal

on the rose stained black with grief.

Ghostly raindrops fall now,

each capturing the rainbow -

each capturing the attention

of the dead girl

who stayed.

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