Guilty (an acrostic poem)

Grace without conditions was what was needed

Unless justice was allowed to prevail

I sat there, the proverbial gavel in my hand

Little did Leslie know I held her fate

Try as hard as I could, I could not acquit

Yelling foul I convicted her of traveling



Trial (an acrostic poem) Part 2

The gavel came down hard.

Reverberating the verdict through Max’s soul

If he could go back and fix things he would

Almost anything that is.  He would still have knocked Cindy up

Leaving her prego would suit that bitch well