Morse Code
The hour is early. The night is cold. The flashlights flicker.
The tone; cold broken clarity with owl call.
Darkness is so much more than night.
Where evil roams, t'was here this night!
Listening to the rain, watching the water glisten and roll over the cars body parts.
Waiting for the man to let the body pass.
A stretcher is waiting, a body bag!
Notebook contains initial facts in a pocket on me with a cold hand.
Sometimes I wonder if I really care!
I get to know them after seeing their dead stare!
I have to dig in places much more worse than mud.
I go to places where few would go.
In all the madness I need to know.
I promise to them that I'll do all that I can.
Each case weighs heavy on this mortal man.
I look back on my life. I have no kids, I have no wife!
Killers and rapists, thieves and villains.
I hunt, I forage, I seek, I find.
My childhood detective hero made me my mind.
I sometimes ask him what he thinks.
I hear his voice say this to me of all things:
ENDEAVOUR.
Copyright © A Yorkshire Poet | Year Posted 2018
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