Another poem. Speaks for itself, I guess. The only comment I can make is that I really like the title I came up for this. I’m usually bad at titles (like names for characters and other such things) but for this one, it particularily fits.

At least in my warped and twisted mind. :)

---

The Troll

Copyright © October 1996

He sat, thinking,
listening to the rain,
sinking slowly lower
into the soft, muddy ground.Soft pings resounded
as water struck metal.
The occasional rumble
of a car passing overhead.

Hard splashes landed.
Water hitting stone,
water hitting water,
spreading, flowing over soil.

The howling wind
swept under the bridge,
water its cloak
chilling his flesh.

Eyes firmly shut,
listening to the rain,
head bowed, thinking.
Feeling the world.

The crunch of gravel,
the sound of feet
the squelch of mud.
Someone sat down.

The fuzzy warmth
of a comforting arm
across his shoulders.
The smell of flowers.

He opened his eyes
the illusion vanished.
He closed his eyes
and listened again.