That dark cloud passing could be a sign
Of thoughts drifting back
To the scene of the crime.
The clock says three,
Though time’s a mystery;
And the cops as usual
Are clueless.
Fiction won’t change your life,
But it could hold the key:
Pages lead us to truths
We should have guessed.
Days like this, I stay home,
With murder in mind.
Sifting remains,
In bed with PD James.
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