Eternal Youth

Be careful what you wish for...

I was travelling through a countryside

That I’d never seen before,

As it grew dark, the mountainsides

Loomed threatening, over my car,

The cloud hung low in a louring sky

And my headlights cut through the gloom,

Ahead on the twisting, bending road

I had hopes of a cosy room.

 

There wasn’t a house or a farm out there,

The valley was threading down,

The deeper it went, the darker yet

With still no sign of a town,

I thought that I’d have to drive all night

And my eyes were growing dim,

When back in the trees, I saw a light

And a sign: ‘The Dew Drop Inn’.

 

I pulled at the bell for the Publican

And I heard a shuffle inside,

A shadow loomed, and the hinges creaked

And the door swung open wide,

A man so gaunt that his face was grey

And his sallow cheeks were thin,

Stood trembling in the doorway there

In the hall of the Dew Drop Inn!’

 

I followed him in, not saying a word,

He motioned me into the bar,

Then poured me a whiskey and water

While I stared at a glass topped jar,

It drew my gaze as I sipped my drink

For the contents bubbled and swirled,

And I said: ‘Just where is the Dew Drop Inn?’

He replied: ‘At the End of the World!’

 

His voice came bubbling out of his chest

Like the rasp of a rusty saw,

His hands were trembling, where they lay

And he kept his eyes on the door.

‘That jar, it changes its colours, look!

From red, through green and gold…’

He said: ‘They told me one sip from that

And a man would never grow old!’

 

I stared at him, and I saw him frown

With a tear at the edge of his eye,

This ancient man with the trembling hand

And I said: ‘Well, that was a lie!’

He shook his head and he turned to me

‘It depends what you want it for,

I was twenty-two when I took my sip…

I’m a hundred and sixty four!’

 

‘I didn’t age for a hundred years

I revelled in youth, so long,

But suddenly I grew weary, thought

That there must have been something wrong!

I lost the zest for a youthful life,

Was beginning to feel my years,

All of my friends were dead and gone,

This life is a valley of tears!’

 

‘You’re telling me that one sip from this

Will give me a hundred - True?

I’ll still be fit and I’ll still be strong,

At a hundred and thirty two?’

‘You will, but there’s a condition

You must take on the Dew Drop Inn,

And stay in this cursèd valley then

‘Til a seeker of youth walks in!’

 

I’m standing behind the counter with

My eyes on the outer door,

I’ve stood like stone for forty years

And paced a track on the floor,

The Publican left, the moment I sipped

He went with a joyous cry,

In search of a path from the Dew Drop Inn

Where at last, he could finally die!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[EmpressPoetess]

Such clarity, such vivid detail! I was enthralled from beginning to delightfully sad end. 70 or 80 years in this world is enough, but we have an inbred desire to live forever. You're amazing, in that you can write so many wonderful and intriguing tales! Greatly enjoyed, David!

[MoriartyMesa]

LOL, alright, you get the award for making me spill my mary jane while reading this, and it was one of those good snorting laughs where I might pee myself and hoping the 9 ice tea's i drank will hold.


Nice.

[Debbie_Philly]

An amazing story.... wonderfully written and the flow is spotless... your a very talented writer Dave and i really enjoy reading you !! :)

[MOON]

Lovely flowing write as usual a short story within a poem, in todays world of botox and facelifts could not be more appropriate , the elixir of youth comes at a price.

[Stabitha]

Lively and cleverly-exposed re-telling of a cross-cultural legend. Loved the innocuous name of the Inn - I knew the Narrator was up S**t Creek as soon as that was mentioned.

There's a Chaucerian feel to your narrative poetry. I think this comes from your expert plot development.