Sitting in the sun with her cool silk dress gently rippled in the warm breeze

Enjoying the quiet moment, in a little dappled shade from the trees

No noise to disturb the peaceful scene, except the gentle hum of the bees

No stress or calls for help, no crying children clinging to her knees

A cool glass of pimms with the condensation forming on the glass

A cigarette burning in a long holder dangles from her hand

No unpleasant thoughts within her head abide

The glass syringe has fallen on the lawn, she’s played her final hand

The husband looks down at the beauty sitting there, resists the stroke of the hair

The parents stand and stare why didn’t we know, why weren’t we there

The police look for evidence of foul play, and have opinions they can’t share

The children weep for their loss, the only honest emotion on this tranquil summer afternoon