An old man onto his porch stepped out.
He was surrounded by fields and lingering doubt.
The clouds up above, foreboding and gray,
looked down at him, as if to say "stay."
Disregarding the message, he ambled down stairs
and onto a road that would lead him somewhere.
As he pad down the path to wherever it led,
it started to rain and wet his white head.
"You're no match for me!" the man said to the drizzle.
"I am still fine and my plans will not fizzle!"
So onward he went, away from his home,
but the drizzle grew harder, and farther he roamed.
He ventured past meadows and overflowed streams
that grew from the clouds that hid the sunbeams.
He coughed and he sneezed from the wet and the cold,
and said, "This can't be good for someone so old!"
in due time he reached a small muddy town,
just as his feet were beginning to drown.
He sat on the steps of the general store,
his body aching like never before.
A maid came out, looked up above, and cursed the gray skyline.
"The sun did not neglect to shine,"
he said, with a chuckle in his throat.
"I, myself, however, neglected to bring my coat."
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