A full moon lit garden ablaze in
the evening.
A sinister silence broke through the shadows.
Lord Dufferin was conscience of movement in darkness…
As he stared through the window all alone in the country.
With a box on his shoulders out came the man…
As he moved through the terrace slowly past the window.
He stopped and looked straight at the diplomat’s eyes.
Dufferin recoiled because the face of the man…
Repulsive and drawn from under the casket.
And now words can’t describe things that dreams can’t erase.
To the elevator he walked years later in Paris.
To the operator he gave just and innocent glance.
There stood the man with his hand to the lever.
Dufferin jumped back and they went on without him.
After moments of silence came the collision.
The cable had snapped and there were no survivors.
And Lord Dufferin,
Why were you chosen?
Why were you kept
from the cold hands of nails and roses?
