Barbara LeighA Poem by David Lewis PagetThe news came via the telephone, ‘You must come on home at once,’ The voice had rasped with an urgent tone As if talking to a dunce. He wouldn’t say what was going on He just said, ‘Come home and see,’ My heart had fluttered before I uttered ‘What’s up with Barbara Leigh?’ I held my breath as I heard the click When he put the handset down, And breathed a curse just under my breath As I called the fool a clown. He knew that I’d be worried sick When he left me up in the air, It could only be that Barbara Leigh Was hurt, or in despair. I knew full well that he hated me Because of his blighted love, He’d made it plain that Barbara Leigh Should be his, from heaven above, But she’d turned her graceful smile on me And had left him in the lurch, And the only time he saw her was When we married, in the church. I had to drive three hundred miles To get home to Barbara Leigh, And had bitten through my bottom lip As I counted every tree, I felt the tears course down my cheek As imagination bled, And thought through every scenario That I’d find my lover dead. For hour on hour the road sped by And the daylight fled to night, My headlight beams, they were lost in dreams Of the one, my one delight, My hands were shaking so badly When I pulled into our drive, Until I saw, and was hoping for That my Barbara was alive. She rushed on out of the cottage door With one of her winning smiles, I said, ‘By God,’ with relief, a nod, ‘I’ve just raced three hundred miles!’ ‘I didn’t want to distress you, love,’ But her face was creased with joy, ‘I simply wanted to tell you first, We’re having a baby boy.’ David Lewis Paget © 2019 David Lewis PagetReviews
|
Stats
348 Views
6 Reviews Added on January 6, 2019 Last Updated on January 6, 2019 Author
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|