A touch of blood to the head.
A corps in inverted position.
Attraction, ended communication,
All her remains analyzed, 

Not a given supposition. 

It was a sunny morning, 
Sara always went downtown 
To catch the ferry to work
Her head already at indexation.

We will never know the cause.
Has she gasped some sense before
The blow cut her off, ended her lore? 
Only Devil may know, heard as a whisper.

Sara Denton spoke no more.
Sara laughs vanished.
Sara stays at her tomb.
Sara will never be seen.
Not a wife, nor a next of kin. 

A blooming blue tulip she was.
A void where once grew life,
No children, nor husband or wife.
At least she's not Jane Doe,
Most of them treated as a foe.