Poem submission by artificialcensus
Worn by millennia of neglect
As decrepit and grey as he were,
Tired bones rattled up the steepest hill in town.
Umbrella’s felt – faded
Submissive to Wind’s brute strength
Served little to the sheltering of the fatiguing blind man.
As if the oceans had inverted,
The road beared resemblance to waterfalls
Carrying schools of debris – and nearly, the umbrella porter.
Reaching the summit
Digits found the doorbell
To which the sound alerted the occupants within.
Answered by the deaf man
And greeted by the mute friend
The threesome sat down to poker and rum.
As rain battled earth and wind ravaged window panes -
Each man took great joy in the miscommunication.