The Witching DaysA Poem by David Lewis Paget‘I
may be old and decrepit now And
you may think that I’m done, You
laugh at me as I shuffle along But
you don’t know what I won, You
think the world is your oyster now But
you’re only barely a teen, When
I was young, in the witching days I
married a Faery Queen.’ ‘You
laugh and play with your silly phone And
you text, to say you care, But
all those buttons won’t help you breathe The
scent in her fragrant hair, That
phone will never caress her throat Where
the skin is smooth and fine, Or
hold her delicate hands in yours, But
I still remember mine.’ ‘I
found her sat in a faery ring Where
the mushrooms used to sprout, A
tiny circle of magicking When
her father let her out, I
still remember the muslin skirt That
she wore below the knee, And
the chiffon blouse with a tiny broach And
the smile that she had for me.’ ‘Her
lips the colour of cherry wine Her
eyes, deep pools in a glade, She
led me into the bluebell woods And
under the trees, we played, She
let me into her mysteries When
a mist blew in with the breeze, And
gave her lips for a tender kiss In
the way that she used to tease.’ ‘We
tripped together the farmer’s field And
I helped her over the stile, We
hid ourselves in a hedgerow where The
birds had nested awhile, We
stared in awe at a crimson sky When
we woke up late in the hay, I
wed her on a deserted beach Just
after we ran away.’ ‘So
don’t go laughing behind my back, And
don’t go pitying me, I’ve
lived the life, and I’ve loved the wife I
found by the magic tree, So
you, get rid of that mobile phone, Get
out where you can be seen, She’s
still out there with her scented hair If
you want your Faery Queen.’ David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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