Maggie Gordon lived on top of the hill
in a house shuttered from the sky
No visitors darkened her door
and only one person knew just why
No lawyer would take her case
of the murder of Mr. Dean
The DA vowed to avenge his friend
who lost his life there on the green
In the land of forgotten memories
and outright stolen lies
The county judge issued a warrant
Maggie had no valid alibi
Witnesses' sworn testimonies
painted a dark forbiding tale
Of a burning love affair
and of passion that grew stale
Then the hardware storekeeper
said he sold Maggie a knife
The same one found at the murder scene
the DA proved she took Dean's life
On that day of sentencing
after Maggie lost her case
She pulled down her silken scarf
and showed her red-bare scar on her face
Some say it was Mr. Dean
who cut her in a rage
Some said it came from a former love
when she tried to turn that page
Forsaken by all that knew her
while years in her prison cell
The true story behind the murder
not a soul she'd ever tell
I've been spending my drive times with Bob Dylan with a sprinkling of Leonard Cohen for much of the summer. I ask of anyone that comments to help me out and offer up a poet or writer to help expand my universe. I trust my regular readers and I thank you in advance for the help (I could use some lately.)
Linked at Poets and Storytellers United, Writers' Pantry #43: Sunday Morning Cereal
