The Assasin.

People who know my husband Pete well, think of him as a kind and gentle man.
He has another side to his nature as this poem shows. It is called

THE ASSASIN.

Pete strode up to the kitchen with murder in his heart.
It was then that I heard the awfull killing start.
I heard the deadly weapon strike, then his roaring call,
His great cry of triumph as he saw the body fall.
Three at least had fallen before he took a break,
I felt compassion for him I knew his arm must ache.
The paper he had rolled up and now held in his hand,
Was the weapon he had chosen to destroy that filthy band.
He knew that there were other ways he might soon have to try,
But just at that moment he had to kill the fly.

Jill West.

P.S. I hate fly sprays they make me wheeze.