This was of profanity
It came from Barret’s mouth
His mood, not good at any time
Was trending sharply south

Tifa’s face filled with concern
She moved to stop his fit
Cloud, who knew of men, told her
“Just let him cuss a bit”

They’d wound up in the playground
Fallen beams dotted the sand
Mere feet away, the ruins
Were quite readily at hand

Tifa could not look; she turned
As bright tears filled her eyes
Cloud thought about Aeris
Interrupting seemed unwise