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