Once upon a sunset, weary, I pondered, meek and teary,
over many faint and spurious homes ashore.
While I plodded, waves were lapping. I nearly missed the comely chap in
purple, rapping sincerely past me once more.
I circled round returning, embarrassment was churning,
the concern on his face, not all it wore.
Thanks m m Mister, I stuttered, though I heard not what he muttered,
while I sheepishly retrieved keys to my door.
The sky was pink if I remember; the last day of November.
Shadows winked at all their members, calling Thor.
As my heart was foxtrot beating, the rain threatened sheeting.
The stranger kept repeating Signorina, the storm!
I heard the darkness creeping, peering, I stood statue still, fearing…
Shouting streams no portal could ignore, began to pour.
The ruckus was unbroken, and the night bared no token.
No words could be spoken for the squall.
Swept up, I flew, wept cups and knew
this day may be my last for evermore.
But the tempest’s artful distemper, ceased its senseless raging temper.
And mercifully, lowered me to the floor.
It’s weighted rage sated, my sanity deflated.
My fate no more waited on collated wrath slated afore.
Though late I was beamish, despite encountering the fiendish
and my squeamish side, no longer held rapport!
When the shadows come a creeping, they’re a threat that will seep in,
don’t let them sweep in, explore
Of courage grab a tankful, a bank full of tranquil,
and recall how much we’ve to be thankful for!