As the rain was still falling,
under the porch’s awning,
“Bet you didn’ expect all-uh this?”
Gray hair peered over his visor,
plenty of room for floss,
and his eyes said he was happy.
“I need to getcha to sign one-uh these,
dudn’ matter which one ya sign.”
Some crumpled paper, and a cheap pen.
Still holding the pen as I reach for the pie,
I realize it.
“Yep, that’s my favorite pen.
Gotta have it back.”
With a smile, he turns,
“Ya have a great night!”
and shows a smear of dark mud,
on his leg’s swell above the sock.
Would you please tell me,
what is your secret?