There comes a solitary wayfarer,
Slipping into town on summer’s shirttail.
The cobbled streets ring with children’s laughter.
Across the pure blue sky clouds set sail.
To the town, he comes with fox furs to trade,
Along with a thirst, he must sate.
All the nights, he spent alone with a dream
Will be worth it once his deal has been made.
He studies the crowd with dark eyes of slate,
Then enters the store prepared to debate.
Furs on the counter; gone is the fox’s scream.

Bartering to make a mutual deal,
He refuses to let his prices go down.
With money in hand, he wants a meal,
A close shave and a night on the town.
After his bath, he feels clean and handsome.
The wayfaring stranger sets out to dine,
Feast like a king, relax and mellow.
As music plays, he eats a steak so lean.
As if dying of thirst, he drinks much wine,
Which sets him aflame and his loin do pine,
Thus he stumbles to the town’s one bordello.

He chooses a fair girl with a blonde mane.
Engorged with lust, he pens her a sonnet,
Describing pleasure caught in summer’s rain.
Driven wild like a bee in a bonnet,
He drinks from the honey of her sweet kiss.
Then flings himself betwixt her thighs’ dark night.
He fights hard to lose the melancholy
And not fall into his bleeding abyss.
Even as his loins take such sweet delight,
The wayfarer can’t take needed flight,
Away from a fox’s dying memory.