Years have passed since I last crossed over
The threshold still stained red
With a subtle stench of
Carnage cleansed long ago
With no trepidation
I return to the scene of the Crime
Caution blares; my ears ring with the tolling
Of stifled wronged goodbyes
‘Do not cross’ long dissolved
By the intervening
Years since the Queen’s demise
I return to the scene of the Crime
Blinds crack open on a second floor
Window apparitions
Upon my arrival
Scuttle for hidden tombs
Transported back in time
I return to the scene of the Crime
My money placed on fortune’s turning;
A spin of the wheel
Where red is the winner
And black is but color
Comprised of all others
I return to the scene of the Crime
Great are the anxieties of distaste
Ironies straddle Self
Like two raging titans
Dueling psyches clash
Against better judgment
I returned to the scene of the Crime
Unscathed; buoyed by Love beside me
Pages turn fluttering
In the breeze created
From a thousand butterflies
Rising from the cocoon
Soaring above the scene of the Crime
