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What's Afoot, Sherlock?

By John I. Blair

Iím so annoyed.
How can such a simple task
Spiral into mystery
Faster than a ricocheting bullet,
A slashing knife,
A poison drip into a drink?


All I want to do is save a poem,
Preserve it from oblivion;
Is that so much to ask?


But working here in Windows 10
The feat becomes absurd,
Opaque as any granite wall,
Like throwing rhyme and wit,
Weak as they are, into the void.


Holmes himself by now, I think,
Would be seeking out some coke,
Beaten once again by Word,
Frustration unalloyed.

©2021 John I. Blair 12/26/2021


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