we are all missing pieces
of ourselves, cold,
and missing pieces
of the bigger story, untold.
how do we pay homage to these,
free them to unfold?
and welcome them,
bold.

Pessoa sat on a bench
ready for the rain's stench
hands in his pocket
an empty, empty wallet

time is shredding senses
the mysterious coat avenges
last from a group of friends
wounded and the fog doesn't mend

Pessoa sat on a bench
taking the rain's stench
his jaw to the clench
busy streets cobble French

black hat with a tight ridge
where all curious minds hid
door slams, droplets dance
it's a trance

Pessoa sat on a bench
defend yourself, defend
passersby still know, no tend
a pity look, a petty spell
want to buy?
would he sell?

smiles wasted wry
tickled waists to the clutched hand-holding lie
not to him, he's to die
shadow pointless, out of time

Pessoa sits, demeanor stands
umbrella steady by left hand
a soaked problem with no name
down the cliff behind him, letters rain

                                                           ­                                ------ravenfeels