Annaliese Christman



It was rain that lashed at the glass that day,

With my coffee in hand, chills went away.

When in through the door a wet figure came,

To be out in the cold must be insane!

I noticed at first he had a sad face,

While smiling he spoke, it seemed out of place.

Like a tree in the woods, he stood quite tall.

Next to him, the rest of us seemed real small.

His soaking hair had a look like a mop,

Long and brick red, it pleaded for a chop.

Spikes in the front drooped from the poor weather

While long hairs on the neck splayed like feathers.

On the top of his head he had two tufts,

Wild and untamed, they made him appear rough,

His eyes were what made him really look sad,

Silver like steel and blue just a tad.

Looking in them would not make you feel swell,

You’d feel like you’d fallen down a well.

Reminded me of an overcast sky,

Right after a storm when the birds don’t fly.

His skin was tanned like some light golden toast,

Imagine the sands of the ocean’s coast.

For clothes, he had fairly plain things to wear.

About his appearance, he had not a care.

He had blue jeans well worn and quite faded,

With holes in the knees that looked serrated.

His sweatshirt was dark color, navy blue,

Grey stripes on the arms, ones of a blue too.

Everything was wet, token of the storm,

Off came his shirt, wouldn’t be dry come morn.

Underneath he wore a nice cotton top,

But it was wet too, the drips on it dropped.

He wasn’t about to strip then and there,

He looked sad, as water fell from his hair.

I happened to have a set spare clothes

And I knew dry, not wet, he would have chose.

Shyly, I offered him the extra set.

He looked confused, but it was all he’d get.

He took the clothes and left to change alone.

He came back dry, but chilled down to the bone.

A gentleman he was, and thanked me lots,

But it was nothing and he owed me not.

He introduced himself; his name was Roy,

Good-looking but an all-around nice boy.

We began to talk, I know not how long,

About life, love, and how the world was wrong.

We read the same books, we watched the same shows,

Works of Miyazaki, also Thoreau.

The time went so quickly, do not ask why.

But soon it was time to say our good-byes.

It was sad to go our separate ways,

But it’s not like I won’t see him one day.

‘Cause in a time of computers and such,

I’m glad it’s never hard to keep in touch.