the pauper and the ballerina's father

part 3

in an elegantly furnished parlor

the pauper sits with nervous hands,

his old cap wrung betwixt his fingers,

but the scarf folded neatly

upon his lap.

he wears his best tattered clothes

and thanks the servant politely

for the welcomed spot of tea,

but his empty stomach

can hardly fit much else

beside the butterflies.

the room is quiet,

save the methodical tick

of the grandfather clock,

and as the pauper looks around

he sees more than his own.

at last he arrives,

the ballerina's father,

a staunch aristocrat,

stillness permeating the air so much

that even the clock

seems to have silenced itself for the man.

he wears a stern face,

demanding respect

and an over inflated sense of reverence.

the pauper rises to greet her father,

hand outstretched and shaking,

but there is no motion in return.

good day mr. lafitte.

you have a lovely home.

what are you here for boy?

well, i am here regarding your daughter.

and what of it?

with a pause and a deep breath.

mr. lafitte, i am in love with your daughter.

with haste and coarse breath.

absolutely not.

i know that my present circumstances

may not be so desirable in your eyes,

i understand that, sir.

but i feel-

don't be ridiculous.

what makes you believe

that she would ever end up

with a person such as yourself?

you have no wealth of any means,

if any means you even have.

you have nothing

and that is likely what you are.

you do not belong here.

now go.

you will see my daughter no more.

if i ever see you again,

i will have the guard on you

before you could run back

to the gutter from whence you came.

her father promptly left,

not saying another word

except to order the servant

to take the pauper to the streets.

but in the hustled moment

in which he was shown out,

the scarf had fallen to the floor

and been left unintentionally behind.

he only realized

as it was too late.

and so with a sunken heart

and whetted eyes

the pauper stepped out to the streets

beneath the steady rain,

his neck already cold in the chilled air.