A man in transcendental clothes accosted me in the street.
He asked me for a moment’s strength
to beg a word and busk a poem’s length.
A simple request, straightforward and true.
He’d write his best and I’d give him his due.
But at word’s cost, my mind went blank.
My patience was lost. My heart sank.
I raced in mind’s heat amid frozen breath
tugged at scruff and fought with death.
I thought of past conversations and discussions and worlds apart,
then at last vibrations and percussions of word’s art
began stilted then spewing:
“Night, blast, blight, cast
Silver, quiet, quiver, diet
Pool, passion, fool, fashion
Menace, master, Venice, faster
Love, lude, fantasy, food… ”
On and on those words did flow
and visions passed and time did go
as they spattered and sputtered
’till the sidewalk was cluttered
with words stewing
and woes eschewing.
Then a hunger took me as my thoughts assailed us
and I stopped of a sudden as those words hailed us
But one word was left and as is my fashion
from my heart it was cleft and over and over in my passion
I shouted “CHOCOLATE! CHOCOLATE! CHOCOLATE! CHOCOLATE!”

His poem came but moments later
by Danube made with word to cater:

“Liquid, solid, powder it don’t matter
just the sound of chocolate ‘ll make my heart patter
You say milk and I say chocolate.
You say milk and I say chocolate.
I eat so much chocolate you say I’m a quack.
Need I remind you it’s an aphrodisiac.
You say milk and I say chocolate.
You say milk and I say chocolate.
I love you dearly. Yes it’s true,
But the color of chocolate is my passion hue.
You say milk and I say chocolate.
You say milk and I say chocolate.”

His poem was simple, fresh and couth,
but his English was not so good in truth.
He read it to me and it made me laugh.
I gave him five shillings and crossed his path.