Posted by Admin on 6 July 2008, 12:00 am
Walk slowly home –
too many spectres haunt
the empty house, and so
retard reluctant steps
towards its wrought
reclusive gate.
Walk slowly home –
a sea of silence, dammed
behind the closing door,
engulfs the present in
the past – evokes anew
a nagging self-rebuke
that sears – precedes
the wraiths of girls
once brusquely spurned,
of maids too shyly wooed.
Walk slowly home –
refulgent and familiar things
but emphasise the gloom
of hope deferred – recall
that leering shade, ambition
unfulfilled.
Walk slowly home – if home
it be where one, alone,
self-centred, celibate, bereft,
reviews a bleak domestic scene –
there imprecates the Might-Have-Been,
of Might-Be, knows there’s little
left.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council