Cold Case (Poetry)

I stalk the world
in old plain clothes
and go which way
the cold wind blows

I’m chasing shadows
from the past
the lamps grow dim
the light they cast

picks out an image
on the wall
it wavers — blurs
beyond recall

I search and search
but rarely find
such clues in corners
of my mind

to piece together
scraps of time
that link the guilty
to the crime

My heart invest-
igates the theft
I scour each room —
there’s nothing left

but ghosts and names
I half-forget
I question all —
I’m not done yet

My love’s the witness
loathe to say
that she was present
on that day

and didn’t know
the suspect well —
there was no way
that she could tell

what he intended
or had planned
and everyone
should understand

she’d not an inkling
not one hint
in word or deed
or cruel dint

of circumstance —
some turn of fate
that fickle gods
manipulate

What evidence
stands firm as proof
when doubt unravels
strands of truth?

The riddle deepens
long-involved
and thus the case
remains unsolved