Posted by Admin on 24 July 2006, 12:00 am
Big Ben, long past the midnight hour,
pursues its daily round,
she drops her purse, he lifts his hat,
retrieves it from the ground.
Her mink-trimmed cloak, his diamond studs,
her costly Redfern’s gown,
proclaim they’re of the Upper Crust
who’ve been out ‘on the Town’.
She then ascends the shallow steps
(just three the pair divide).
He waits beside the railings
to see her safe inside.
Her door key vacillates a lot,
he guides her kid-gloved hand
to find that most elusive slot
as they together stand.
She thanks him with a gracious smile,
benign yet worldly wise,
reluctantly he frees her hand
so tiny and gracile.
But if a parting will conclude
this early morning interlude,
we leave our readers to surmise.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.
Village
Parish Council