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Open Poetry #10
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The Blind Girl's Eyes
| Open Poetry #10 |
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The Blind Girl's Eyes |
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GreyMouser Junior Member
since 2000-10-20
Posts 17 |
Standing on the grassy ledge, contemplating precipice edge, a muscle's twitch would send him nigh, to rocks below from perch on high. It seemed like only yesterday, in flower'd fields they'd romp and play, walk hand in hand through shaded wood. Sweethearts all through childhood. She was sweet, wore linen and lace, was brown of hair and round of face, a cooper's son, he seldom talked. for he was lame, with limp he walked. To the village kids he was a joke, his halting gait much fun they'd poke. But she was different, gentle and kind, saw no twisted leg for she was blind. If 'round the others, his speech he'd hide, but alone with her, he'd swell with pride, for her ears only would he speak aloud, as he described the shapes of clouds. When chores were done her hand he'd take, a journey through the woods they'd make. For supper they were often late, the two no force could separate. He spoke of blooms and buzzing bees, lightning storms and gnarled trees, butterflies and crimson skies, as his words became her eyes. And thus they grew and planned to wed, share house, a home, a feather bed. For marriage gift, with hand and blade, a home he'd built in forest glade. Though she was blind, her life was good, she'd hear his axe swing in the wood. In some months time came news of joy, with child she was, maybe a boy. Their happiness could have no bounds, with baby's cry, now home would sound. But a month to soon her labor came, down by the stream, she called his name. He carried her home and laid her down, must fetch the doctor from the town. Mule hitched to wagon, off he went, but halfway there the axle bent. The wagon tipped, the mule ran free, no trace of beast the man could see. The light grew dim from setting sun, but his crooked leg refused to run. 'Twas many hours into the night, when light of town came to his sight. With midwife, doctor and carriage fast, to his front gate they came at last. But not in time his wife they reached, too much was wrong, the labor breech. From loss of blood, her body worn, she died before the babe was born. He screamed and cried and cursed his leg, foul withered limb no speed could beg. Bitter tears he shed all through the night, and a grave he dug at dawn's first light. Heart filled with pain he leaped through air, for his loss was more than he could bare. A bridegroom less that ten months past, he called her name until the last. [This message has been edited by GreyMouser (edited 10-24-2000).] |
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wayoutwalt Member Elite
since 1999-06-22
Posts 4870TEXAS (it's all big) |
Wow yipe great job yuh |
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GreyMouser Junior Member
since 2000-10-20
Posts 17 |
Thanks for the read, walt... *s* Mike |
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Ron K. Fox Senior Member
since 2000-10-24
Posts 925 |
Excellent story told. I like it. i like it a lot. Ron |
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Victoria
since 2000-08-12
Posts 5869 |
Nicely written Mike..and a sad one.. ~Victoria~ A poem is never finished, only abandoned. - Paul Valery (1871-1945) |
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Paula Finn Member Ascendant
since 2000-06-17
Posts 5546missouri |
Such a sad tale you have spun for us...tears on my cheeks for this one... |
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