Ode to Angela Lansbury
When you sit across from me Sipping your cup of milky earl grey I know you are noticing Those rusty slivers of heme Dulling my nails There from when I scratched his eyes out You casually study the bulge in my pocket Where those eyes lose their moisture And their retinas are fading from cornflower to haze Oh how I covet Your superior skills of detection You restless sage with your blended persona Part teapot, part Mainer, part immigrant entertainer Though your lips are thin Your smile is pleasing And I hope to endear as many when I solve nefarious murders And publish a succession of books