By Subhodeep Basu
I know he is perplexed,
His eyes are in query,
This dubiousness makes him weary.
I had seen that look before,
The urge to know,
The deductions that I have in store.
It started with a letter in the morn;
A letter that seeked my aid,
“May I see you at dusk”, it said.
It was now a quotidian at my abode;
Where came each soul to avail,
A result to their quaint trails.
So as the sun went down,
Welcoming the silvery light,
There was tap on the door, and a tap again.
A sturdy man came in striding with a cane.
There wasn’t a limp,
Just a stance of fear,
The cane studded with stones;
By Jove! It was dear.
He wanted to speak, I wanted that too,
I had my deductions,
But they were rather few.
He spoke very fast,
Pausing now and then.
He gave all that was needed,
But also included the lame;
Small or petite, I needed it all;
Thus I had made a name.
The narrate was long, tedious at parts.
I looked at my friend,
He was engrossed in the tale.
He listened with great care,
As if preserving the Holy Grail.
“Is he making his predictions too?” I thought.
This gave me a laugh that I fought.
But then there was a frown on his face,
As the tale reached its crucial phase.
“I think I have enough to begin.”
The man with the cane had ceased his fable.
“I’ll see you after luncheon at the House of Gable”.
I haven’t spoken since then,
As if engrossed in the affair.
I do this quite often,
To see his baffle, to see his care.
I know he wouldn’t ask a thing,
This is how it works.
“Poor fellow is wondering”, I thought with a smirk.
But now it’s time,
For a bit of tedious strain.
A case was at hand,
A case of the man with a cane.
So now I stand up,
Putting on the hat and the cloak,
“It’s time for work Watson”, I say through my pipe,
Letting out another swirling smoke.
About the Poet - Subhodeep Basu
An engineer by fashion, a writer by passion. My writing is vividly guided by emotions and displays a suave motley of feelings, hope, love and desire.
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