French poet

Everyday he woke up to the sounds of trucks driving by his house. The trucks started driving in and out since the break of dawn but Harry lay in his bed until he heard the siren of the first shifts end from the factory nearby to which the trucks drove to. Every morning he wrote a poem even before he bathed his tall white body or combed his long brown hair. He belived that’s when his brain worked the fastest, hungry stomach and sleepy eyes.
One not so fine day with newspapers filled with war news and the sky filled with black clouds he bathed and went to the factory for the afternoon shift like he everyday would. He worked in a chocolate factory just in front of his house. He was surrounded by chocolate all day which led to him hating its taste. That day his coworker Cadbury who was a lovely girl with dark brownie eyes n cherry blossom lips approached him. Her beauty was one men would kill and die for and also something a poet would write poems about. Cadbury approached Harry who was the talk of the town for being a loner and the only chap who could speak French in the town, The tongue of the factories managers and owners, all the men and women asked Harry for favour’s, everyone offering something or other in return. Men offered Harry money n alcohol but women offered anything they could from bread to clothes.Cadbury approached him in a quite confident and friendly manner, the manner to which Harry was not accustomed to, she patted his shoulder greeting him they talked for a while bout how they were and how their respective lives were going they concerned over how Germans marched in Paris last week. Cadbury then asked Harry for a favour, She had heard that he wrote poems and wished to read them. In return she offered to him her recipe of chocolate that got her the chef’s job. Harry agreed to it as it was a profitable deal there was nothing to loose in it for Harry to recite his works to the lady.
Later that evening Harry met pretty Cadbury and she requested him to read to her his poems. To which he obliged, he read her one poem and then another and then another until the drowning sun had already sunk and the sea of stars had crept in to the dark blue sky. She heard them all with a smile on her face and handed him the recipe written on a small folded brown paper. Cadbury then stood up and started walking away. Harry called her name and when she turned around he asked her which one of his poems did she like, she smiled at him the most genuine smiles he had seen, her mischievous eyes lit up in a way that lit up the dark night as she said, “ I DON’T SPEAK FRENCH. “

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