The Face in the Frosted GlassA Poem by David Lewis PagetThe old man came in the wintertime, The mist was cold and grey, She thought he’d been in a distant time But then he went away. She only caught but a fleeting glimpse Through the hedgerow to the street, But felt a chill as the memory spilled From her head down to her feet.
He wore a common fedora hat And a houndstooth overcoat, The collar was turned up high, so she Saw neither cheek, nor throat, But just for a moment, as he turned And beneath the brim of his hat, She caught a glimpse of his piercing eyes And his eyes were dull, and black.
She told her brother about the man And she tried to laugh it off, She said it gave her a sudden fright And she thought that he would scoff. Her brother turned with a furrowed brow And his face was white as sin, ‘If ever he comes to your door, you know You never must let him in.’
‘What do you know about this man?’ She cried, in a sudden fit, ‘I only mentioned his passing, so That you’d scoff, make light of it!’ A chill ran down to her fingertips And tightness grew at her throat, ‘Be sure to lock all your windows And the door, please draw the bolt.’
He stood there facing the window, and He stared long out at the lawn, No matter how much she pressed him, he Was firm, would not be drawn. ‘There’s no point letting the nightmares in That will make you feel aghast, The man you’ve seen is a walking sin That we left behind in the past.’
She’d always trusted her brother John Who was older, solemn, grey, He’d always tried to protect her from What hurtful people say, Their mother had died, with her a child While he was just sixteen, They’d moved away to the countryside, Had avoided kith and kin.
But John was working away at night So it left her on her own, Huddling over the fireplace In their quaint and rustic home. The mist swirled over the window panes When she saw the face peer in, And tap at last on the frosted glass As he called out, ‘Carolyn!’
‘Carolyn, won’t you hear me now I have such a tale to tell,’ She stared back into the dull black eyes Of a soul who’d been through hell. She shook her head and she bit her hand And she waved the man away, ‘I need to talk to you, Carolyn, Please hear what I have to say.’
She edged on up to the window And she whispered, ‘Please to go! You know that you have me terrified But for what, I just don’t know.’ ‘They put me away for twenty years, In jail, for killing my wife, That woman you called your Momma, girl, They sent me down for life!’
Carolyn shrieked, and held her ears From the face in the frosted pane, And distant memories flooded back From her childhood, once again, She saw them dragging her father off But they never brought him home, And John had gone to the funeral Of their mother, all alone.
‘They said I poisoned your mother,’ cried The voice through the frosted glass, ‘I swear, my girl, that it wasn’t me But your brother John, alas. I turned my back when your brother poured That powder into her tea…’ Then Carolyn sobbed, and choked, and said, ‘Please God. No! That was me!’
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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Added on May 24, 2015Last Updated on May 24, 2015 Tags: fedora, mist, window, nightmares Author
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