“Sprite Cranberry”

I hear a loud commotion at my door

I ponder at who it is at such a late time of night
Other than the sound of the person at my door, the house is quiet like a
class during a presentation
The sound comes again
Out of sheer curiosity, I leave my bedroom or what I like to call, my safe
haven

As I head down the steps, I notice how creaky and squeaky they were
They were comparable to that of a mouse squealing in a trap
I notice a tall and athletic figure at the doorstep as I’m halfway down the
staircase

I walk towards the door mildly concerned at who it might be

My hand reaches for the doorknob and I’m surprised at who it is
The man wore a red undershirt with a snowflake pattern on it and with a
snow white vest
The purpose of him seeing me caught me by surprise

He questioned if I was thirsty,

After a long night’s slumber I found myself quite quinched
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a can almost as red as his rose red
undershirt
He then asked a question that resonated with me,
“Wanna Sprite Cranberry?”

Mr. Williams reviewed this poem and said, “Creative”