Michael

Two in one day? What's that you say?  So, once again my pen has wandered far from prompts and memes, and this will be here for all to see...but there will be no tweets, no shares from me.  This is simply writing because I have to.  A rough piece, written and edited as I go...will no doubt be long, judging from the scribbles in my notebook beside me, so fellow fiends, I do hope you enjoy, this unrehearsed voice.  That is...if you find your way here ;)

Michael

Michael is a man
but he's something close to holy
he lives all by his lonesome
but he always has a smile
and if you really listen
on the few times he has spoken
you will know that he's a genius
and he's never really lonesome
or alone

He saw her stroll up Davis Lane
on that sultry, Sunday morning
and Kathy never knew
he was at the oak tree watching
and she didn't know
as she walked into the parlour
she would find the lady waiting
the wife of secret lover
not near as sultry as the morning
not alone

From the tree he heard her screaming
but he never thought to stop it
he's something close to genius
and he's really close to holy
but he knows when he's not wanted
he knows when he's not needed
If sin's to leave us bleeding
we should be left to bleed it
and so he went to walking
on that Sunday sultry morning
all alone

Leaving Kathy with the bodies
she would bury neath the roses
her lover gone to ground
and the wife that did the shooting
and she prayed no one was watching
but she's not used to praying
and with the bodies went the gun
the only time she touched it
and she knew the stories would be spreading
she could almost hear them talking
though alone.

Michael heard them talking
but he knows they're always talking
and he never shared a word
for he never did speak loudly
and the truth that became buried
in the yard beneath the roses
would remain there with the bodies
slowly festering and rotting
and the town would keep on talking
and Kathy would soon be walking
the row alone

Michael is a man
but he's something close to holy
and he let the truth stay buried
below the stems of wild roses
and the scent would lead him singing
sounding something close to holy
but no angels joined his chorus
but he would keep on singing
all alone.