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The Writer
by Sandra Martyres
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There was no proper shelter
The pelting rain hit his back
He buried his face in his coat
Not wanting to be recognised

A one-time writer fallen on bad days
But too proud to ask anyone for help
Preferred to risk the unseasonal rain
As he could not afford to take a cab

After an hour's walk in the rain
Water dripping from head to toe
He entered his humble little home
Sneezing and coughing incessantly

The dog came running with his slippers
The cat meowed lovingly hoping for a pat
But the poor man dropped to the floor
Leaving a long watery trail to the door

His pets the only other inmates
Who shared his home, howled in fear
Until a neighbour stepped in to inquire
He dried the man and gave him some soup

Thanking his kindly neighbour for his help
The writer fell asleep hugging his two pets

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January 31, 2011
More By: Sandra Martyres
Views: 903      Comments: 0




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