Fr. Ricardo slept well

.
.
His cigar breath, pure white robe
The dingy room, dimly lit
His feet, well trod, lay on the footstool
The curtains grim,
I wish they sway
Dreamed Fr Ricardo
The night has come to stay.

He shut his tired lids
The warmth of air like sin
Discomfited him

Absent in his mind and body
He arose opened the 'window'
And let some air in

Fr. Ricardo slept well

The cool air carried
the voice of the black bird of the morn
the bells of the church
The hustle of the carnival

Fr. Ricardo snored on

The chill of the bright summer morn?
His pillow and his bed drenched
"Was it a nightmare of a sweat?"
He thought as he lay

His eyelids parted expecting,
Sunbeams piercing the day
His eyes fell on a bottle of Lil' Johns Rum
In a shelf wide open

"The blighter swigged my rum
And shut the window" he screamed within

Mr Newt from the corner blipped and said.

"Fr. Ricardo, one day a pope will be
On a hot summer night
He opened his shelf
And the heavens give him cool breeze"

.
.