Not A Clue Poem by Robin Bennett

Maybe it is the flavor
of your words-
tasting the
sweetness of honey
now I bite into a rhapsody
of sour apples
each leaving behind
a lying aftertaste
breaking my privacy
in December
to ensure a flood
of April showers
you'd do anything for
your May flowers

Maybe it's the way the winds-
blow across
the olive trees
half way around my world-
triggering memories
of you-
lost in the call
of the vastness
of the Atlantic
my heart-
died there in March

Maybe it is just-
an issue of time
Quiet is-
when you haunt me
memories now
shackle me-
calls for help, fall on
deaf ears
does anyone see my dying-
just a shell of a woman
left to find-
cause of death a mystery
the evil blame-
Miss Scarlet in the library with the Candlestick