Saturday, March 04, 2006

Shadows of an aching past... Pt. 2

The summer of 2005 was one I will not forget in a hurry. Common sense and reason went out of control and I can’t blame anybody but myself.
Subsequent meetings were the same; the weather was always fine and sunny and we started to call it S**** weather. (Name withheld to prevent any embarrassment) We had some great times and I always looked forward to taking her out to various places.
Somewhere along the line, however, things went astray. I was so very much wrapped up in writing the Iris story that for a brief time, I thought that S**** was so involved with her memory that somehow, for an instant, Iris had come back. The fact that she wore a wishbone ring similar to the one I had given Iris triggered it off. I grew a fondness for her that was so very stupid of me.
As I said, I suppose I spoilt her by ensuring that she always drank champagne when we were out dining and in return, I enjoyed her company immensely. It triggered off a desire for me to write a poem to her; something I thought I would never do again. I wrote the following verses to show the changing of the seasons and the hope for a continued friendship. S**** enjoyed the poem and asked me to sign it and have it framed for her, which I did.

To S**** in gratitude for her help when I needed it. September 2005

The summer days are gone,
No more idyllic dreaming in the sun.
No lazy afternoons along with company so fair,
To ease my aching heart and drive away despair.

And when I needed you,
When all around, my dismal troubles grew,
I found in you some cheer; I found some inner glow
That helped me to forget the pain of long ago.

The days grow shorter now,
As leaves begin to fall from off the bough.
No sun now falls upon us as we go to dine,
But we’ll find a pleasant spot to drink the wine.

The winter chill will come,
Yet there is no need to for us to stay at home,
And taverns snug will surely beckon us to share
A glass of wine, a rendezvous somewhere.

Those days were warm and bright,
To us, they gave some measure of delight.
Will next year see us back again once more
To sit in sunny splendour as we did before?

Those golden days I yearn
To come again and let the memories return.
The happy times; the places where we went to stay,
And where you sat and took my dreary cares away.

Will these days come around?
Will there be simple pleasures to be found?
And will you be there with me to drink champagne?
Will you be there? Will you return again?

(To be concluded)

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