The Glance.A Poem by BeccyThe glance, when understood, is more than all the words that have been said; Than all the paths upon this earth that we so briefly tread... And here was time, encapsulated, as quiet as the tip-toe back and forth of the last bastions of hope in their crisp and perfectly ironed uniforms. He thought the silence became him, suited his mood, as did the elegant whiteness of the room, only the incessant drip, drip, drip, of his enforced sustenance daring to intrude. Unwilling to leave, he instead transferred the dreams of summer days to memory; And though no longer firm of hand, eschewed the veil of descending eternity. "Come with me," he said, (though no words were spoke.) "Come to where our world is locked in time and our eyes weep tears of joy at all the wonders we have seen and marvelled at." "But I am not ready," came the hushed reply, "I have still as many walks along our favourite beach as there are summer days yet to come. Can you not wait awhile?" "You ask the wrong person," he whispered, "choice is a luxury we only think we own. Such arrogance is only for the young, not for those for whom the dice is already thrown." "Then I shall wait for you," she replied, a last kiss, delicate as the gossamer wings of a butterfly, descending. "On the path along the cliff that leads down to the beach, I expect you'll be there by and by." And here was time, encapsulated in a glance as all knowing, as all encompassing as the tip-toe back and forth of the last bastions of hope in their crisp and perfectly ironed uniforms.
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Added on April 12, 2019Last Updated on April 12, 2019 AuthorBeccyUnited KingdomAboutI'm forty four, single and have a lovely fifteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..Writing
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