THE SECRET AT THE BASE OF THE STAIRS

It was true, he stank of leprosy, the disease of him reeked, yet no one knew
The disease gave off a rotten effluvium blown all out of proportion
The secret at the base of the stairs, for years, protected and consumed
The music of his life had become misunderstood, audible distortion
Was what he used to keep the secret hidden, quite enigmatic, this man
Of filthy travels and acquaintances that brought him to understand
A secret of such magnificent disproportion, required a heavy hand
It's message was unmistakable, the putrefaction of his flesh
Was slowly taking from him, the keys to the hidden chamber
Where odor nor secrets dared ever wander to the top in anger
Or in happy discontent, for it had been in his family, decades now
Safely secreted in the basement chamber, in a coffin, long forgotten
The General from wars gone by, the valor faked and misrepresented
Was beginning to stink up his home, and soil his pristine reputation
The recognition of the secret, permeating everything he knew
It had taken on a life of its own, and left him no other options
He walked down the stairs and into the comfort of his demise
He carefully penned his final words, in poetry beyond compare
Such profound relief he'd found, in death, he'd faced his disrepair
And protected with honor, the secret at the base of the stairs......

Tony Taylor  (Chicago)