He sniggered
at the brutal murder.

Could see it coming.

He was not a detective superintendent
...for nothing.

He watched the murderer
escape

And did nothing other than
make another cup of coca.

It was a bitter frost.

He wrote the name of his dead wife
absentmindedly on the glass

as the kettle
steamed up the kitchen.

The “On” switch
wouldn’t turn “Off.”

Ten years now
and he could still hear

her laughter
everywhere.

He always enjoyed
A TOUCH OF FROST.

He and the lads
would discuss it the next day

down at the station

as if it were a case
they had been working on.

Didn’t care for MORSE.
Loved David Jason

and Frost’s interactions
with Mullet.

As usual
real life intruded

even though
this was Christmas.

“Villians! ”
(as he still called them)

didn’t stop for the season of good will.

The phone rang
his knuckles white holding it.

“Yes...yes! ”
he told it

leaving the steaming cup
of coca un-drunk

on the Formica topped
table.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-nothing-you-dismay/