Today's prompt was to write in Ottava Rima which results in a poem in iambic pentameter and with eight line stanzas of a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c rhyming structure. Not my forte at all (hence it's only two stanzas long) but here we go...
Amid the crowd, I met with Yesterday
I thought him smaller than he seemed before
His shoulders hunched, his eyes, they looked away
His coat hem dirtied where it brushed the floor
I spoke his name aloud—he turned away
With hurried pace, he headed for the door
I wished to tell him all that I had learned,
That all his nooks of knowing had been burned.
The door behind him gave a quiet click
I found myself alone, an empty room
The throngs no longer milling strong and thick
Night’s window showing but a scrape of moon
My friend had played another clever trick
I knew that I would see him again soon
His knowledge books where not destroyed by fire;
There must be death before a funeral pyre.