He was just an average guy, I saw him on the curb
eating cardboard lemon pie, for an after work dessert.
He wore a dusty, faded hat, his shoes were freshly shined
his coat was pressed, never wrinkled, his briefcase set behind.

I bid him a pleasant day, to me, he tipped his hat
then he asked of me to stay, so beside him I sat.
We talked a while, the day grew cold, I shivered at the wind
he gave his coat up for me, despite the fact I sinned.

He told me his name was Bob, said it was the wrong name for him
I laughed bells, he told me this, I asked where he'd been.
What he'd done, where he'd go, he told me his whole tale
when he spoke, of his past, his eyes and face grew pale.

His love had left him, years ago, because of a mistake he made
the specifics, of his falter, I really shouldn't say.
Confidential, as you know, he trusted me not to tell,
his confides will lie, drowned within my well.

I sat and listened, patiently, even shed two tears
as I heard the story unfold, through all of his years.
He even shared his lemon pie, whatever of it he had left
so kind to me, a mere stranger, he never laughed in jest.

Then the next, news that came, was very sad to me
he told me it was time to part, be on our way, merrily.
I asked him, if I'd ever, be in his company once more
he replied, quote the raven, he said, "'Nevermore.'"

He arose, walked away, never did he turn back
but he left his briefcase behind, it was a solid black.
I picked up, brought it home, and stared at it for hours
not wishing to open it, don't destroy the power.

He left the town, he left the state, I never saw him again
but to this day, I remember, him as being a friend.
I finally opened, up the case, in it I found chains
he'd been bound, but he set himself, free from all the rain.

Copyright 2000 by Susanne Estelle Hendrickson
5/28/98