Mortica
Walking in the cold brisk English air,
His feet pad the ground,
His pace steady as the
Storm brews and billows over head.
He looks around
And watches the clouds move by
Quickly blowing past menacing bringing up a new storm
He pulls out his umbrella.
Anticipating the storm coming in.
His feet pad the ground,
Faster and faster.
Looking at his watch.
He smirks and pick up the pace
Swinging, with each step, his watch impatiently
Swing it back and forth
missing the iron fence,
missing the passer by,
missing another moment of time.
His mind races -
If he doesn’t make it in time
Time for his dinner date.
He’s going to be reminded by his date
About this one true and simple fact
He was late.
His pace quickens,
Almost at a run.
He arrives at the
Restaurant to their empty table.
Sitting down -
He looks impatiently,
He’s not the one late.
He smirks and waits for the white rabbit
Who’s late for this very important dinner date.
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