Eternal Christmas Eve

From their last breath,

holding hands at death,

This husband and wife

who fought much in life.

For he was a gambler,

she was a socialite scrambler.

Each knew the rules.

Swindle the riches out,

and to gain society clout,

for his wife to wear velvet gowns

and bejeweled crowns.

To look the other way,

when the other strayed,

as each knew very well,

a marriage of convenience or a cold jail cell.

They were two damaged souls,

child street urchins, hiding like moles.

Came together

with a fight over a purse made of leather,

their fates intertwined, a bloom of destiny.

Year after year, their wealth grew,

the scoundrel and his shrew.

Society accepted them but they knew

this gilded couple’s mask would undo.

It came one blistery, wintery night,

during a Christmas Eve ball, they had a nasty fight.

They took a midnight stroll,

to converse over their initial goal.

To trick the rich,

with a faux jewelry switch,

during a dance,

or a quick card game of chance.

As they spoke,

a blackhearted bloke

raced out with silverly knives

and stabbed Mister and Mrs. taking their lives.

Laying in the blood-soaked ground,

not a stitch of clothing or jewels to be found,

Every Christmas, husband and wife

haunt the living, for it’s their way of life.