My Dear Friend

Yesterday a bosom friend
had a nice proposal penned
our year-long dry spell to end –
together some time to spend.

Today sharp at 10.30:
She woke me up angrily
I was quite late already
I had to just jump and flee.

It was no just sweltering sun.
Tar on road was too molten.
Temperature was 51.
Out-about on road was none.

All alone I stepped my first
foot on molten road that burst
slippery lava, still I must
reach my waiting friend (in thirst).

“Hot, hot, hot!”, I felt the heat.
Through my shoe I felt the peat.
Precious are my tiny feet.
Still had promise to complete.

Told myself to be a man.
worry not much ’bout the tan.
Gulped I water, then began
Run to Stop: O, how I ran!

Ran I with sun full on blast.
Ran I till the moment last.
Ran I jumping-crying past
all the shops: O, ran I fast!

Bus stop was now not so far.
Still running on slippery tar.
‘Ho ho ho’, the yellow star
was just about to make me charred.

Then I saw a grey bus who
was coming near to me through
gusty, twisty, winds of loo
fiercely in my face that blew.

That was shot across the bow
Dare I could not now to slow
Step one, step two, ducked I low:
Shot I into bus like pro.

When I sit now in AC
And remember all the sweet
talk we had in the McD,
Burnt feet are nothing really.


I would love it if you go "tippy, tap" with your keyboard here :)

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