Jane Doe

Nobody knew how long she had been here
on the beach, on her side, her eyes closed.
Her hair fanned, her face bejeweled with shells,
her clothes straightened by the receding water.

In time, we will know why she had to die.
In time, she will be named and buried.
Until then, she will be Jane Doe.

Ronovan’s Haiku (poetry) Prompt Challenge #113 (beach & time)

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