Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You sat in your chair, and read your book,
As often I’ve seen you do,
While each now and then I’d peek a look,
A glance filled with love for you.
The hour was late, but you didn’t stir,
I said I’d be off to bed,
I noticed your look was fixed on your book
So it went right over your head.

I lay awake for an hour or two,
And thought that you might come up,
We’d both had coffee before I came,
I’d made you a second cup,
You may have fallen asleep down there
All cuddled up in your chair,
I cleared my head, and got out of bed,
Thinking to call you there.

I ventured into a darkened lounge
And found that the power had failed,
While lighting flashed through the open blinds,
And thunder above assailed.
But still you sat in your cozy nook
And stared straight down at the page,
Clinging on to your open book
By an old, forgotten sage.

I called you once, and I called you twice
But you didn’t move or stir,
I tried to shake you awake, but you
Were cold in the cool night air.
Your face was pale in the flashing light
Of the lightning bursts outside,
And then the terrible truth came out,
You’d sat in your chair, and died.

I tried so hard to revive you, but
You didn’t allay my fears,
Your eyes were open, but dull and black,
While my own eyes filled with tears.
I laid your open book on the hearth
And tried to preserve the page,
The final one you were looking at
As you left this mortal stage.

And often now I stare at that book
At the final words you read,
As death crept up and it claimed you then
As those words rang in your head:
‘You must let go and come walk with me
To the green fields of the park,
Just take my hand and then leave with me,
Don’t be afraid of the dark.’

David Lewis Paget
One copy of Unicorns is enough, thank you.
And thanks for the likes attached to this duplicate copy.
Welcome to "It's FUN to be dumb !!"
Father is in his study
writing his sermon.

Mother is knitting
by the fire
listening to the radio.

I am sitting
reading a book of birds.

I cannot focus
I am thinking
of Benedict
and seeing him
earlier today
at the small church.

I talked with him
and we kissed.

Mother never asked
if I had been crying
despite my eyes
being red.

Benedict and I
talked of that
Lizbeth girl
and how she
had tried to get
him to have ***
on a pew
in the church.

I couldn't believe
any girl would
attempt that
especially in church.

He hadn't of course
but why did she
think he would?

The sky is darkening
bats swoop
from the eaves
and flutter back
and forth into the sky.

Classical music comes
from the radio
Bach I think.

Mother knits quickly
her fingers
moving so fast.

I feel
Benedict's lips
on mine.

We embraced
in the church
before leaving
his arms about me
mine about him.

I close the book
I feel tired
and my mind
seems dim.
My mother
is out shopping
but Benny
can't come around
as he has to work
as do my brothers.

I am left alone
in the house.

I lay on my bed
staring at the sky
through the window.

It is a warm morning
I can hear birdsong
and cows moo
from the farm.

Why did Benny
have to work now
of all times
I muse.

I remember
that time
when he came
and my mother
had just gone
out shopping
and we made love
on my bed.

This bed where
I lay now
and even though
I knew my mother
had gone out shopping
there was an odd thrill
that she might
come back
and it added
to the excitement.

But she didn't
and Benny had
just gone
when she drove back
in the car
with the shopping.

I ought to get up
and wash
and dress
but I want to lay here
a bit more
and imagine Benny
is here
and he's
beside me now
and undressed
and we kiss and touch.

I sense the electric
run through me
and I want him
and we do.

But of course
we don't.

I lay alone
staring at the sky
listening to birdsong
and cows moo
not making love
and nothing to do.
Next page