The FloodA Poem by David Lewis PagetThey said that the ocean was rising It would soon overwhelm the land, While I lived down on the valley floor Below the sea and the sand, The only thing that had kept us dry Was a narrow band of ground, Between a couple of mountainsides In a long protective mound. There were others lived in the valley It was like an ancient clan, That had hung on tight to its own birthright Since before the world began, While the fathers ruled for the daughters That they may not look aside, They could only marry within the clan If they’d call themselves a bride. But I was a rank outsider, I could look, but couldn’t touch, I tortured myself with Geraldine Who flaunted herself so much. Her skin was the texture of silk and cream And her voice the trill of the thrush, She’d bare her breasts till she knew I’d seen Then laugh when she made me blush. But Geraldine had a father, Roy, Who was rough, and high in the clan, He’d single me out and say, ‘You boy, Your eyes are straying again! You’d better not look at Geraldine She’s not intended for you, I’ll marry her to a real man That’s what she’d want me to do.’ He’d threaten to beat me with the staff That kept Geraldine in line, I thought, she’d never be marked like that If ever the girl was mine, But fate lay just round the corner then With storm clouds tumbling through, And gale winds whipping the breakers up In a high tide whirl of a stew. The mound was breached in the early morn And carried away like a dam, Suddenly water was everywhere I reached for my boots, and ran, The whole of the ocean seemed to flow Right down to the valley floor, With most of the cottages swept away The clan, it seemed, was no more. I heard her crying out in the flood Reached out as she floated by, And Geraldine had clung onto me, Her father would drown, and die. We fought our way to the higher ground And we saw our homes subside, Buried forever beneath the flood But I made the girl my bride. David Lewis Paget
© 2016 David Lewis PagetReviews
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