A Tragic Tale Poem by Lindsey Priest

At the foot of the hall staircase,
Leading to the door,
A circle of dried blood
Stained the stone cold floor.
Many myths have been related
To those who stop and stare,
Wanting to know about the tragedy
And just what happened there.

She glanced over the bannister,
He was waiting there below.
She ran to reach his arms,
No chance that she would know,
That in his cloak was hidden
A sharp and deadly knife,
And his intention firm and strong
To take this young girl's life.

Why, oh why, you loved her, you always told her so,
Why, oh why, oh why, did you strike that cruel blow?

His return was unexpected
She’d been taken by surprise,
But nobody could doubt
Love shone brightly in her eyes.
She adored him without question,
It was plain for all to see,
But in a few short moments
She would crumple at his knee.
The blade was so well hidden,
She didn’t see it in his hand,
But the knife then pierced her heart
Exactly as he’d planned.

He took a small step backwards,
As the girl fell to the ground,
She sadly reached to touch him
As she collapsed without a sound.
She raised her eyes just long enough
To catch hatred in his face,
He stood and watched her dying,
With remorse? No, not a trace.
Across the floor crept a pool of blood
Of deepest, darkest red,
The girl, who had been so beautiful,
At the foot of the stairs – lay dead.

He stared at the lifeless body
For several minutes or more,
Then, wiping blood from the dagger
Headed straight towards the door.
Not looking back nor faltering
He raised his head up high,
His intention was accomplished,
The girl he'd loved should die.
He'd been abroad just for a short time,
Until a servant called him back,
It was with despair and jealousy
He'd planned this cruel attack

WHY?

A scheming, evil servant,
With an envious heart of stone,
Had written him a letter
Suggesting he should come home,
He would find his faithless lover
In the arms of another man,
It urged him to return quickly
To hear the servant's plan.
Blind rage then coursed his body
Sense and reason drained away,
The girl he adored with someone else,
He would return without delay.

The knife was polished and ready,
His plans to kill in place,
As he looked up from the first step,
He saw her smiling face.
He imagined her with another,
A rival, he could not bear,
His resolve grew ever stronger,
As her feet touched every stair.
And when he was quite sure
That she had drawn her very last breath,
He would take his shiny pistol
And join her then in death.

You said you really loved her, you always told her so,
Why, oh why, oh why, did you strike those cruel blows?