Atran25

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The Powerful Stranger At High St - A Narrative Poem
by atran25
One day at a dress shop,
I met a man selling dresses,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some guesses.

"Got any guesses?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No guesses here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

"We've got some lovely shoes,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some tissues."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.

The man seemed exceptionally brainy,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call zany,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.

Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit powerful.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty flowerful.

So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the dress shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."

"Dresses, guesses, you shall find.
Shoes, tissues, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to High St Market.

So to High St Market I decided to go,
In search of the guesses I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.

There were stalls selling pies,
Pasties in many shades.
There were even stalls selling franchise
People were scattered from many trades

I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather powerful
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all flowerful.

Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some guesses!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some shoes and dresses.

"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the guesses she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.

As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?