Bowtie - The Lower 48

A friend and I watched a passerby

A friendly man with a grey bow tie

He tipped his hat with a feather intact

Gave us a wave while the clouds went black

No coat in the rain he was washed away

Not a bird to sound, no one was around

Just my friend and I sitting side by side

On a bench there it laid, his grey bow tie

Shot up from the bench we were suddenly drenched

I took his tie, to yell for him I tried

Out our voices drowned from the thunder’s sound

From us warmth it took, like maple leaves we shook

Down a couple yards, a shape like business cards

Appeared the old man’s face, birth and death date

Dry from head to toe, we stood below

A clear summer’s sky holding a grey bow tie