14 March 2004
9:51 P.M.

He sits in silent trepidation
Awaiting the guillotine
They knock upon his cell door,
Which seems to him quite odd
They zip into the dingy cell
Glare at him so coldly,
He could swear that an ice crystal
Falls from the ceiling
They bombard him with accusations
As he approaches his fate
The falcon swooping overhead
Does nothing to ease the sense
Of shock at the site of his death
To think he was once a man of wealth
And honour, pride and achievement
A lovely home, and a beautiful bride
A man who had everything,
Accused of adultery.