Magpie Tales #141

Full Moon, UK. 29th. October 2012.
Tess's tender prompt, 29th. October 2012.

Pillow Talk 

Waking, he asks her "Was our first full moon

like our first kiss?" "No riddles," she says, asleep.

"I was just thinking, seeing how tonight

the moon is looking at us through the trees,

the sky blown clear, the lawn all silver frost -

this is just how it was when first we met."

Up on one elbow now, she shakes her head.

"I remember how it was pouring wet,

but if you mean our first kiss I'll forget -

of course not, though down memory's lane you've lost

track of our first full moon. Now if you please,

go back to sleep.  Or it could be your last!"

"Last kiss, or last full moon?" "You think too much!"

Just for a moment then their two hands touch.

"You keep the moon," she yawns. "Give me a kiss."

.

Friday Flash Fiction 30th.March

A little poem for the G-Man, and this sad lassie.

Seven Days

“Just for a week,” you said. “Just for one week,

no more.” But ‘Message received’ is never

now from you; no ‘Hi Pet’ on my mailer

makes my thoughts quicken, makes me smile. 

So many bleak miles and seas I endure

apart.  Who would have thought seven days

could last for ever. Or break a heart?

.

Old Negatives

I always wonder, when we're tasked to smile
and photographs shows radiant teeth and eyes
what's really in our minds? Here, for instance
you as a bridesmaid.  Does that rictus grin
conceal a secret envy for the bride
married today to someone you desired?
Or did Aunty Hit-the-Bottle drop her hat?

See what I mean?  Go further back, and here's
a schoolgirl, proud in her uniform. Green
I think you told me, green and blue. But you
seem awkward in your Dad's untidy garden -
(look at those droopy lupins by the gate)
shy and scared of what's ahead? First day,
new school, new dreams, new doorway into life.

And further still. Is that wrapped bundle you,
uplifting your father's heart as he lifts you
close to some unseen uncle with his Kodak?
Later - you, toddling in leggings, gloves, beret,
your curled lip saying "What's the fuss about?"
(Some days even now that same lip warns "Look out!')

But here's my favourite, this one before all.
Although your hands have somehow both been cropped
and those knees, too near the camera, look so huge.
But nothing, nothing can airbrush the laughter
that quite transcends the way the snap has fixed
you more than half a century ago.
A penny for  whatever coaxed this smile.
A penny to know again such joie de vivre
when all seemed possible - yes, even love,
and the choice that could be Yes, and should have been,
was No, was No. And laughter sank and stifled.


Posted in response to Kerry O'Connor's prompt at the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads