These whispering pines tell a secret.
Pray, tell me, can you keep it?
It's of a dreadful night
Full of fear and fright!
Some poor lass was taken against her will
To sleep forever in that hill.
The whispering pines just above
Saw what transpired to this dove.
They saw the man so twisted and mean
Lay this girl down in her grave to be.
Her long locks, so curled and dark,
Entangled her face so pale and stark.
Her eyes were unsettlingly open,
Revealing a lively blue now broken.
Her small frame was contorted,
Her limbs distorted!
But that was soon hidden from sight
As the man buried her in the night.
He left without tears or regret,
Determined his crimes to forget.
But forget the whispering pines could not!
They look for people near this spot.
They lean and point and whisper shout
To where this dead beauty rests about.
Share This Poem
This Poems Story
I was raised by my amazing parents who dedicated themselves to homeschooling my siblings and I. My father was the one person I freely shared my poetry with, and he kept on encouraging me to share it with others and try to get my work published. This specific poem was inspired by my father's story of how he found a dead woman in the woods. I let my imagination paint the picture of what I thought happened and if no one had found her.