The Croxley street poem.

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                         The moon was watching in the sky,

The wolves were howling in the trees

In the quietness of Croxley street

56 the house that stand on its own

It wasn’t lit up by lights or candles,

Just the dim light from the moon.

In the house a pale figure stood,

Staring out of the cold misty window,

He moved across the gloomy house,

Into the study room

His wife was sat at the study desk

He called her name

“Marrielle”

She turned with a jump

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He raised his hand behind his back

A shining sharp blade clutched in his hand

But he couldn’t do it

He walked into the kitchen

As she followed she laughed out loud

He turned and swung the knife

It cut and gashed her throat

She staggered unsteadily across the room

As she fell he screamed and shouted

“Sorry, sorry I love you”

He fell to his knee yelling and cursing

“What have I done”?

He paused

Stared into the dead woman’s eyes

Then stared at his watch

3pm

Tick tock

3:05

Tick tock

Richard ...

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