The silent song of Chester Gray
The silent song of Chester Gray,
a murderous affair
This quiet soul of little word,
not known of him to share
This eve upon a moaning moor,
a pier of rotted wood
A body lay alone and cold,
where life it once had stood
The corpse was clothed, though not its own
a size or two, too small
And shoeless, showing socks so worn,
though mud, no sand did call
A male, of middle, weathered age,
long years did take their toll
A day or two or three or more,
did lay this empty soul
While Chester Gray, his monocle
upon his eye did rest
Did query, what’s before us now,
does lie, this I attest
The clues, a simple clump of straw,
a rope of equal length
A note, in scribbled written verse,
poetic movement strength
No grave nor stone nor herald gear,
nor silhouette of grief
A coin of gold, upon each eye,
the night’s profound relief
“It seems this man of pauper means
did owe a mighty sum
To one who held his fist indeed,
a' fueled by demon rum
You’ll note, the straw, this bolt of beige,
once tended with a knot
A piece of rope, of cuttered means,
not something soon forgot”
And last this verse, poetic bard,
or something penned of greed
More so, a riddle, lines of fate
alas, this he did read
“Not straw, nor rope, nor empty purse,
lost wages passed as sin
Shall prove so wicked as the curse,
this eve to soon begin
Whence deathly sound of piper’ s roam,
midst shadows cast o’ long
Thy fail to pay, shall breathe the end
and lonely silent song”
Now Chester Gray did ponder of
the stanza’d messaged theme
Through quiet thought and gestures slow,
his eyes this night did gleam
Oh woe is he who fails to heed
the hand before his heart
With motions tainted endlessly
of monies not to part
The straw, it comes a flute to bear
within a case of wood
Once fastened with a silken rope,
before this soul had stood
Each coin a symbol of the wealth,
which promises had placed
tween loans now strolling in default
and debts long now erased
The culprit a musician, for the tune
has since been met
About the head a beating
and the clothes of sad regret
The only thing of fortune
that the murderer did chose
The victim he was found to wear,
the most expensive shoes
This perpetrator, you will find,
with flute he cannot lose
Just seek the one, the one alone,
to wear expensive shoes
And find as the solution
to this deadly dark display
That all must pay the piper
‘fore the silent song does play
Copyright ©
Chris Green
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