| The Jackal and the Lady Slow and sure he stealthily climbed the wall. Dark of night, the mighty tower shadowed. Rope and hooks and finger tips, to the window sill. Once inside he stood and then he bowed. The lady silken gown in hand, nude so he could see, Glimpsed the intruder, before her muffled scream. Do not defile me, with trembling lips she begged. He said, I�d never think of such, not even in a dream. His searching eyes saw the box, in an open drawer. As she ran he held her back, and snatched up the box. He turned and saw her eyes in fear, then he stole a kiss. Out the window just like that, quick as a fox. Trembling fingers turned the dial, the wall safe full of jewels. Removed the case and walked away, and to the window ledge. Looking down she still could see, as he slid down the rope. She whispered loud and he looked up, and saw her at the edge. She tossed the case down toward him, he grabbed it in the air. He looked back up and saw her smile, and close the window some. She walked back over to the drawer, that had held the worthless glass. She waited for a little while, hoping he would come. Half an hour, maybe more, finally she gave up. Slipped into her gown, and crawled into the bed. Still half waiting for a knock, perhaps at her door. Then she fell asleep, with him dancing in her head. The Masked Writer <-.-> <o.-> (C) 2001 T Lovett |