The Property of a Lady

He lay on the bed in a bloodless heap

His blood had soaked through to the crimson sheets

Eyes, open wide, that would never see again

Gazed in perplexity at one thought to be a friend

The killer had certainly gotten quite close

To be able to twist his head `round with a noose

The man's suit was in immaculate shape

Excepting that weapon, a tie of finest silk crepe

The police could not figure that it was a murder of passion

Since he and the lady were both still dressed in the height of fashion

His mistress, the one who'd made the call

Wore a slinky dress perhaps not suitable for a ball

The doctors pressed closer inquisitively

Was the girl hurt, or in medical need?

The officer on duty stood firm in their interest

She's a possible suspect, presently under arrest

For a potential murderer caught

Her stare with curiousity was fraught

She watched over the activity like a goddess in the sky

As men did their jobs, only necessary when somebody's died

A rep for the coroner at last came to take the body

In his hands he held a body bag that was not too shoddy

Before he could move any more, she placed manicured fingers

To stop him, in addition to a glare like that of Death's harbinger

"You can't take him away yet," she said delicately

"A husband is the sole property of a lady.

I may have stolen him from his rightful wife,

But at least let the other woman bid farewell to his life."

The End

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