Have just cleared 100,000 words on the novel; so thought I might pop in, and hopefully, entertain you with another little something, whilst I hatch the next chapter.


        

It's strange, but summer doesn't seem to want to come around this time;
the skies are dark, the rain is lashing, cold...
the ragged clouds decline
to let through even one small ray of warmth, or hope of better days;
but then, they only mirror what I feel since you have gone away.
I watch the fractious scudding clouds, wind- tumbled... swirling, up above;
and, with a soft, sad sort of smile... recall the springtime of our love
affair...
those golden days of promise. Love was fresh, and dreams were new;
had we, but known what we know now...
could we have saved our love... so true?

It didn't seem to matter then, that our worlds were so far apart;
the class divide so different... close held within each others hearts.
We blithely flew on wings of love, so high... the very stars to find;
we didn't stop to think that young love could be so completely blind.
And, through the summer of our love, we held each other in our hearts;
we did not see, and did not care...
for, when in love... all sense departs
like morning mist upon a meadow... 'neath a burning, jealous sun;
we could not see the path was blighted...
that our love would soon be run.

And so, it was; the Autumn of our love soon came a'creeping in...
we did not see through starry eyes, those tiny fatal cracks begin
to creep in;
little things we didn't see... all lost in love, were we;
yet, there was nothing we could do... for they came slowly... silently.
Our lifestyles had, at last collided; there was little I could say...
or do;
you wanted the chic Nightclubs, and the wine-bars, that you knew...
with friends, to whom I never could relate... or stand in social grace;
the Country Set; who thought that I was common,
and knew not my place.

Slowly, came the Winter-time of our affair... we really tried
to make it work...
but, then... I fear, when two such different worlds collide...
love is such a fragile thing... so easy to forget the rules;
we really didn't stand a chance... when faced by such close-minded fools.
But, you must cling to what you know... your world, in which you are content;
and, I to mine... where no-one cares if you don't have the right accent.
My only hope is that the love that we had shared, was just enough
to prove to them that I was more
than just your chosen "Bit of Rough."


'Bye for now,

D.