wise sarpedon He packed his hunter green backpack Along with his briefcase, midnight black; Stood up and sauntered to the door Watching his path along the floor. A lady fair is up and walking To his side and then starts talking About a gathering, in three hours mere To take place, thirty minutes from here. An invitation thus projected He couldn't signal if he'd accepted: His obligations and the weather Constrained and acted like a tether. Unsure he made his way to leave, Assured her that he did believe If he could join her, so the better, And thus shake loose whatever fetter Held his mind now hesitant To see the afternoon be so pleasant. Out the door, but lo to follow, Her steps down the corridor hollow; The room encased in perpetual chilly, A coat was needed to not feel silly, Shivering in the darkened pot Where outside it felt so dreadfully hot. The rain comes down, she shades her head, And to the cars they then just sped. Goodbye, a wave, and smiling care; But she knew she would not see him there. 020704 what's it to you? who go blather from