just some more thoughts on life and humour
The promise
I was walking through the village as I did most every
day,
To the post office and the shops I would usually find
my way,
My dear old mother told me I should walk along the
road,
And if I met with a neighbour I was to help them with
their load,
Her plan it was a simple one for I was getting on in
life,
The walk would do me good and I just might find a
wife,
Twice a week I took the road to the village and the
shops,
The rest of my time was spent tending to my crops,
Mother she was fretting and asked me to make haste,
Before I was too old and my time would be a waste,
But I was sure of foot and my walk was for her too
slow,
You stay home she said and walking she did go,
For it is the way with women as they walk along the
road,
They stop and chat with anyone to make a lighter load,
She told them one and all that I was getting on in
life,
And if it took her dying breath she would find for me
a wife,
It didn’t take her long as she was sprightly on her
feet,
And soon enough she brought along a girl for me to
meet,
We spoke at length and thought each other to be just
fine,
Pretty soon I had asked her if we could marry and she be
mine,
The day it soon arrived and we were to the church to
wed,
Your father would be proud she cried if he wasn’t long
since dead,
Soon enough the wife announced that we were now with
child,
Mother cried her eyes out I thought that she was
riled,
From the kitchen window I saw her; she was talking to
a ditch,
I thought her going senile and this could be a hitch,
Weeks had passed and I asked her why she still took to
the road,
Was she speaking to the ditch trying to lighten off
her load?
Sit in the chair she said and I’ll make you a nice cup
of tea,
All will be revealed and then perhaps you’ll see,
Remember pat she said who owns the farm across that
hill,
He asked me if I’d marry him and when you were wed I
said I will,
So that was your plan I said I was your heavy load,
Hence you sent me walking to the village along the
road,
I made your father a promise as he lay on his dying
bed,
I would not marry another until after you my son got
wed.
18 Mar. 13
I was there
I was there in the house when he walked on the stairs,
His presence large and his face all aglow,
I went there because as he said he had my prayers,
I gave them to him so that he would know,
I went there to his house to sort things out,
As his life was coming to a hastened end,
I stood there while he would argue and shout,
His life he tried so hard to defend,
I listened intently to the stories he told,
I got lost in the hunt and chase of it all,
Legends of poetry as yet to unfold,
As his fate was sealed he was facing his call,
There was so much that he was now to sort out,
And little enough time left, his future was death,
And as he stood in his house he began to shout,
“I’ll sort this place with my last dying breath,
He’s gone now and I stand in his now empty house,
I can still feel his presence as I load up his life,
Each corner of the room the signs of a mouse,
His watchful eye looking over us friends and his wife,
As we scurry about the place up and down those stairs,
Hefting bags and boxes out into the yard,
I can hear in the distance words and prayers,
Death is final but life is at times, hard,
Soon the door will close for good on his old home,
And we will relegate him to memory deep in our mind,
Not everyone can like us but we are never alone,
Take a look around you see what you find,
As we drive away for the last time, I look back on his
place,
Don’t worry he’d say it will be fine, with that
smiling face,
A nod is as good as a wink to a blind man I’d reply,
Life is for living it’s not a bloody race,
His life over coming to an early end,
You can feel his spirit floating about this place,
In the distance now dear old friend,
Remembered, always with a smile upon my face.
17 Mar. 13
