#propsal
Where doth I find thee
A love in Tis heart to be
Searched near and far
Even in sky a star
In dark a fireflies glow
A gentle breeze did blow
Search not far and wide
Look deep in thy heart love doth hide
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
Philip has come
to wheel me
around St James Park.
I feel the warm sun
on my face.
He wheels me
in silence
along paths
I cannot see;
past people talking
then we come to a stop.
We're by the lake,
he says.
I can hear
the ducks,
I tell him.
I move my hand
along to my leg stumps
and pull the blanket
over them.
Are you
comfortable?
He asks.
Yes thank you,
I reply.
How are
the leg stumps?
He asks.
Healing
so I am told.
I stare in the direction
of his voice
with my blind eyes.
Good I’m glad,
he says.
There is silence
for a while;
I listen to the sounds
around me.
Grace I want
to ask you something,
he says.
I turn towards
where his voice is:
what is it?
I ask.
Would you
marry me?
He says softly.
Marry you?
I say bewildered,
you hardly know me
nor I you.
I know, but once
we get to know
each other better
would you?
He says.
I sense he is
leaning close to me.
Why would you
want to marry
a blind woman
without legs?
I ask.
I love you,
he says.
How can you
love me when you
don't know me,
I say irritably.
I love what
I do know,
he replies.
His hand
touches mine;
I feel it there
warm and soft.
how would you
cope with me?
And where
would we live?
I ask.
I will engage
a nurse at the start
until your legs are healed
and you can have
artificial legs;
we can buy a house
in the country,
he says convincingly.
Are you saying this
out of pity?
No of course not,
he says,
I love you.
He kisses
my cheek;
the first kiss
since Clive
kissed me last time
the morning he left
with his regiment
and died in Dunkirk.
I put my hand
where Philip
has kissed me.
I can promise nothing,
I say,
staring into darkness,
but maybe
if things turn out
as you say.
As I speak
my voice
sounds far away.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 3:02 AM UTC