The Music of the ReedsA Poem by David Lewis PagetIt
had been the worst of years, I seemed To
always be in strife, First
my business in receivership And
then my darling wife, She
decided that our poverty, Once
Banks had seized our home, Was
the perfect opportunity For
her to leave, and roam. So
she roamed with a protector, The
accountant I’d released, When
I found that through his perfidy I’d
have to call the police, He
was always just one step ahead, My
wife knew me too well, So
they took the Channel Ferry, left This
fool, to rot in hell! I
was heading for a breakdown, All
this fretting, and the grief, I
was hell-bent on disaster, Vowed
to catch this blatant thief, And
my wife, I would have killed her For
disloyalty, I swear, So
I followed them through Europe, Catching
glimpses, everywhere. But
they managed to elude me And
I ended up in Greece, I
had gone through all the money I
had salvaged for the chase, With
what little I had left, I found A
villa I could rent, By
a woodland, in the marshes I
could brood on what I’d spent. It
was broken down and basic, Had
been empty there for years, And
the roof was badly leaking, Rain
could mingle with my tears, I
felt sorry for myself, and it Was
lonely, stuck out there, Where
the isolated shepherd came To
see, to stand and stare. But
they soon had lost their interest In
the stranger in their midst, I
was left to brood in silence Walk
the woodland in the mist, And
I skirted round the marshes Where
there lay a shallow lake, It
was fresh, and it was verdant And
unspoiled by man’s estate. When
the weather was idyllic I
would sit and think of Beth, Of
the time there on the hillside Where
the world had held its breath, But
the years of wine and flowers They
had slowly been submerged, And
with age, the passion sours As
we lose that primal urge. I
would lie awake at midnight Hear
the music of the reeds, With
the wind so gently playing Through
the marshes and the trees, And
one night I left the villa When
I heard a certain note, And
I saw a sudden movement, That
I thought must be a goat. But
my eyes had slowly focussed, It
seemed old and tired, and turned And
it stared at me quite sadly It
had horns, a beard that curled, And
it stood up on the hindquarters A
goat is noted for, And
it clutched the pipes of Pan To
breathe soft music, from its core. It
stood there for but a moment Then
it walked into the wood, With
its shoulders bowed and beaten, And
it staggered as it moved, But
the music was so wistful Of
a love, long lost before, That
my eyes began to glisten As
the lake lapped at the shore. In
a month I’d met with Gaya Who
I’d seen, back through the trees, Dancing
gently in the moonlight Casting
petals in the breeze, And
she came back to the villa Where
she saw to all my needs, And
we lie in love, and listen To
the Music of the Reeds. David
Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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Added on September 14, 2012Last Updated on September 14, 2012 Tags: Greece, receivership, accountant, wife Author
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