While they have been eating
The rain has started falling,
Gradually gathering in
strength;
What began a drizzle
Has now become torrential,
And doesn't look like coming
to an end.
The two bedraggled figures
That huddle in the doorway,
With nothing
vaguely waterproof to wear,
Are now secretly wishing
They'd listened to their
mothers
When being told to always be prepared.
Screaming
'Geronimo!',
They run
for it down the road;
With an arm around her waist
He leads her to a place
He
knows.
Soaked through, but happy,
They squelch up to the landing;
The room before
them
Makes a welcome sight.
The coal fire is throwing
Strange shapes upon the
hearthrug,
And crying out to be knelt down beside.
She pulls off her jumper
And
flings it in the corner;
He picks it up and hangs it on a chair.
She puts on a
record
And sings into her coffee;
He puts a blanket round her,
Sits her down
And
dries her beautiful hair.
