The Cravin’, by Rick Callaway

poe coffee

The Cravin’

Once upon a morning dreary, as I wandered, red and bleary-
eyed to work, and none too cheery. Cheerless, when I hit the door.
My office, then, with carpet matching cubby walls and people scratching
as i’twere for quick dispatching, cases going out the door.
Cases, then, and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December
when each – Wait! it was November – step left leaves upon my floor.
Eagerly I wished to borrow, oh I wished that I could borrow
some means to end my soggy sorrow, and hang upon my office door
a bumbershoot, and nothing more.

But the sad, uncertain dripping of my coat, and windy whipping
of draggled hair and clammy nipping, told me that I knew the score.
November then, perhaps October. They blend as one when summer’s over.
The main thing is we weren’t in clover;
T’was rainy, as I said before.

So down I plopped to start my day and opted to just sit and stay
indoors and drink what some would say
is coffee.
When there came a gentle tapping, like a rap. A rappy rapping,
Not quite the sound of one hand clapping, clapping at my office door.
Only this, and nothing more.

Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or madam, your forgiveness I ask for
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping.
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my office door.
What is it, then? I must implore.”

My cohort said, “Well I was thinking, of good coffee to be drinking
to end this dopey, sleepy blinking that we both cannot ignore.
I myself was also napping, just before I went a-rapping
and so faintly tippy-tapping. Also, chum, you sometimes snore.”
This is true. I sometimes snore.

“This northwest winter mocks my sorrow! It knows I cannot lightly borrow.
No ‘shoot today, and none tomorrow! I cannot leave my office door!”
“Perhaps a hat is what you’re seeking. A day like this? What were you thinking?
Had you not the slightest inkling? Besides, two ‘shoots hang from my door.
Umbrellas, that is, and nothing more.”

So it was we left to buy some coffee drinks while staying dry
and hie we back while rains fell all the more.
I will not fear this rainy weather, an easy foe when thrown together
with the means to fight this seasonal pour. A trapped chump I will be
Nevermore.

~ by Rick on October 25, 2013.

One Response to “The Cravin’, by Rick Callaway”

  1. This is hilarious, thank you for singing the song of rain evermore.

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