The Man With The Red Scarf

I remember watching from afar,
Mesmerised by the way...
The man in red scarf moved,
invisible, till darkness hid day.
With the last flicker of sunlight setting,
Out his house he'd step with a cane.
Never noticing the young girl opposite,
So ordinary, so brown, so plain.
He was a dark handsome young man,
Rich beyond his years.
Large house all to himself.
Many thought it quite queer.
But none as much as myself.
Until I followed him one night to town.
Easy to spot with his red scarf.
Never blending like a jewel in a crown.
I carried this on for weeks.
But, not much of this man I'd learnt.
Till one cloudy night he spotted me.
His face still, with menace he turned.
He marched right up to my body.
Holding my face lightly with one gloved hand.
His words deep and soft.
Whispered barely to understand.
"You're eyes are the deepest blue.
Like sapphires, the sky or gems.
Would you mind if I borrow that colour?"
With no choice he took with no mends.
My eyes were whiter than pearls.
Left empty with a mere black dot.
Be careful of the colour snatcher.
If he likes, he'll take the lot.
Home I ran all frantic,
Eyes tingling with fear and tears.
The next night he appeared again.
His red scarf, blue, it appeared.
His coat was the colour of blood,
His cane a mahogany brown.
His gloves a deep dark green.
His clothes colourful, life classy clown.
I wondered how many people,
He'd stole away their lights
Who he'd turned into freaks...
Who could only go out in the night.
Be careful that of a snatcher,
The colour ones are the worst.
None of the keep to their promises...
They'll leave you with their curse.

©Odd 21/12/12