Leicester’s Visitor

Leicester’s Visitor

 

Bare bundles of branches like burnt spaghetti blew,

As a storm that grew so big it has a name,

Wreaking havoc with wind and rain as it swirled past,

Tossing trampolines on train tracks its game.

 

That black blustery night while everyone sheltered,

A man wearing a raincoat entered the city,

His bedraggled appearance heightened by the storm,

He arrived and the sky filled with electricity.

 

The clock tower lit up in the darkness of that night,

Roosting pigeons shot out the King Power,

Thunder reverberated round Leicester’s quiet streets,

Waking the inhabitants at this unearthly hour.

 

The Highcross was shaken to its deepest foundation,

All the toughened glass shop fronts cracked,

The former king in the carpark rocked in his new home,

Even the ducks floating in Abbey Park quacked.

 

The man from out of town sauntered up High Street,

Smashing the newly lain slabs with each stride,

His piercing stare falling on the boarded-up shops,

but seeing full sleeping bags broke him inside. 

 

A deep rumbling came from all of the black sky,

Tiles shook free from the ancient guild hall,

The whole city was awake and watching the storm,

Even more cracks appeared in the Jewry Wall.

 

The sky was swirling above his rain soaked hair,

Black as the thunderous night he had brought,

Stopping to gladly lean on the central clock tower,

Calling out loudly for the attention he sought.

 

His voice carried far and wide amongst the rain,

Taking a message to its intended recipient,

About eleven seconds later the mayor jumped up,

He thought there’s no point being defiant.

 

The mayor was a nodding dog and a yes man,

He was eager to please Leicester’s masses,

But looked the other way from closed businesses,

And all the homeless sleeping in underpasses.

 

He took his car with the personalized registration,

It’s MAYOR 1 if you really needed to know,

He pressed his button to move all the bollards,

And drove to the tower and shouted Hello!

 

The visitor started the conversation by saying,

Leicester used to be a wonderful city,

A centre of trade for Roman Britain and beyond,

And now look at it, what a great pity.

 

I was here for a holiday in the dark ages as well, 

I remember having a fantastic time,

I drank the best grog and ate the tastiest rats,

But it’s now full of dirt and lots of grime.

 

The mayor was perplexed and didn’t say anything,

He hadn’t talked to a God before tonight,

But then he thought about it and quickly decided,

This was his chance to put Leicester right.

 

He meekly said in his most angelic sweet voice,

You can have my soul if you fix my home,

Slowly the man looked him up and down oddly,

Then a lightning bolt formed a big dome.

 

The mayor was trapped and the lightning glowed,

Then suddenly the bright light turned red,

The ancient man was shocked and quickly ran away,

He’d never met a member of the evil undead.