Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #181

Words:  name, connected, sheets, broken, poem, signs, strips, vital, sense away, speech, goblets

He lay on a hospital bed
wrapped in a white sheet,
away from the scene
of the crime, where green
glass goblets lay broken–
pieces of glass stained amber–
and a scent of brandy lingered
in the air. Strips of paper,
torn from a leather-bound,
black journal, littered
the floor. With no hints
of violence, detectives
were at a loss to make sense
of what had happened
in this room. Nothing could be
learned from the John Doe,
as no form of identification
could be found to provide
a name or address. In a state
of shock, he was unconnected
to reality, incapable
of speech. His vital signs
were poor. With a lack of
evidence, one detective
pieced together the cuttings
of paper, that were strewn
about. He scratched his head
as he read what seemed to be
the beginning of a poem . . .
“She wore a ring, and in
the sting of it, I should
have known …”

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