After Guy French talked with Anabel she revealed a clue, not mentioned.
Mackwill's behavior started me wondering more about the Mog
and Guy French's man chase, he said, resembled Fritzroy.

The Mog rumors made me wonder its existence because
Mackwill still has no memory of that rainy night with murder weapon in his pocket.
I talked to Mackwill's wife and his secret came to light when she left their home.

Guy French narrowed his eyes
while Anabel stared back at him
"Tell me what happened that night."
She snorted and said nothing.
"Why aren't you answering me?"
" I prefer to stay alive, Detective."
The truth will be the death of me.
You know nothing about the forces at play."

Night easing closer to midnight
stars twinkling in soft diffused light
like moon beams gushing through the blinds
my gentle caresses rouse your sighs

Nuzzling nose in nook of your neck
greeted with a murmured plaint
tightening grip on our clasping hands
'midst quickening of hastened breath

Scents of jasmine fill my breath
rousing passions 'neath naked hide
whispered nothings fill the air
hurried 'tween our lip locked rides

Different skins same sins

We’re men of different skins,
fighting for a coloured flag.
In the end no one ever wins,
all that sin for nothing, a drag.

Does it matter who fires the first shot,
I wonder what the bibles say.
If they fight for what you’ve got,
isn’t that coveting on display.

Covet a very comfortable word,
in a book of ready made excuses.
To say it borders on the absurd,
only ever helps hide it’s abuses.