A tragic crime unfolds on the tee-vee;
Sanguine rivulets from Neda's mouth, nose,
Flow freely; Astonished she seems, eyes wide;
A father's wail; scarlet pool, red as rose,
To mark the spot where bravely Neda died,
Until street cleaner hoses wash it free
From mem'ry; Hope, alas, is denied;
In America, we are feasting. Those
Faces faraway removed by degree.
Solemn youthful face, sitting at my side;
I'd spare him knowledge of these worldly woes,
This boy who cried to see the dying bee;
I bleed, as Neda's heart, for wizened youth;
His puzzled query, "But why did they shoot?"
*Thanks to Eugene for the inspiration.