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