October 23, In Penarth
Alone I sit in the library anticipating your arrival
Like a child in wait of Christmas morn.
Hours soon push the day in to dusk, and I
Aspire to ignore a thousand unsettling concerns..
I have poured the tea and prepared cakes for your welcome,
Marking time by conversing with rebellious flames that snap and dance
As I stir the embers to keep autumn's chill at bay this eve.
I discover a new crack or two in the brick lining of the fireplace.
My flannel dressing gown is warm, yet an irrefutable dampness permeates
The stone walls of this stead, kindling an ache in my bones and a dread in my heart.
Dreariest of rains has invited itself to our little rendezvous;
Pelting drops rap on the window as if demanding permission to come inside.
I turn my attention to a leather bound book atop the mahogany desk...
A volume of light verse might appease such an unwelcome anxiety that has taken root.
My temporary distraction is boorishly interrupted by a clap of thunder
So loud it confounds me, and I scrape my toe on the blackened fire poker.
Worry in earnest begins to niggle at my thoughts as I peer outside
Into the empty night and survey the desolate, pebbled lane that leads from the road.
Black water now courses through its sun-bleached stones, and wind
Lifts the branches just enough to send shadows scampering beneath the lamplight.
I focus on the candle holder, pitying the beeswax as it drips to the floor,
And straining my ear to detect a beat of horses' hooves outside.
The creak of carriage wheels across the old wooden bridge would be most welcome,.
But an answer of destitution is the only response I can glean.
By the saints! Why cannot my mind be quieted but for a moment?
Have the demons that lurk in the peat bogs overtaken you?
Perhaps you were robbed and beaten by ruthless highwaymen…..
My heart threatens to explode with calculated uncertainty.
I cloak myself with a worn dandelion colored blanket and retire to the settee,
Resting my weary neck on the drab, floral-patterned arm.
There is no other choice but to pretend that you are here with me,
Encircling me in your warmth and soothing me with your lopsided grin.
.
Copyright Tina Jordan, All Rights Reserved
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