Solving the murder

Opening the morning papers in a way

Thinking about what them did say

Tomorrow will be a rainy day

The world today

Will always seem gray

The answer lies here

Thoughts become unclear

She got nothing to fear

Of the questions I hear

All words are sounding queer

Her sound grips

Movement of hips

Thought bouncing rips

Focusing on her lips

A new idea slips

Into focus they fall

Staring at the clock on the wall

What happened that night in Montreal?

And above all

Who was the masked woman at the ball?

All details small

Clouded by dim smoke

With surroundings baroque

She died of a sudden stroke

In a ancient chair of oak

Sudden breathless I woke

Smoke dimming slow

I did know

Her manners were show

More deaths followed row

Ghastly ideas grow

Her footsteps fade

In the evening late

I am following her fate

But at this rate

I won’t see her bait

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