Love, to a Fault!

 

They met at the Station of Henley Scarp

Set deep in the countryside,

He told her he'd meet her in London Town

When the hue and the cry had died,

The train pulled in with a blast of steam,

The carriages ground to a halt,

He was sure to tell her to change her train

When she pulled in at Bishops Fault.

 

They stood at the empty platform then,

And ventured a parting kiss,

He'd always remember the touch of her lips

As a promise of future bliss,

The guard appeared with his little flag

And signalled the train away,

As he hurried on back to the waiting car

On that fresh, first day in May.

 

He checked his watch, it was four o'clock,

They wouldn't have missed him yet,

He'd need to be back in the servant's hall

Before the sun had set,

He'd planned to travel by minor roads,

By farms and bullock tracks,

It was only an hour and a quarter there,

And then he could relax.

 

The sun was settling rather low,

The light had begun to fade,

He cursed at the rutted cattle tracks

And the dust trail that he made,

He gripped the wheel with a sudden fear

That turned his knuckles white,

As the Riley bounced and it slid out there,

Unsure, in the fading light.

 

He found his way to the highway then

With a mile or so to go,

No matter how fast he drove, it seemed

He was only going slow,

And then he saw in the mirror there

The blue and flashing light,

The sound of a siren, chasing him,

His face was pale and white!

 

The tyre that blew at the corner, sent

Him cannoning off the wall,

Into the trunk of an ancient oak

At the gates of Mourden Hall,

They pulled him out of the twisted wreck

Unconscious there, he bled,

He didn't wake up for a fortnight then

His wrist was chained to the bed!

 

He lay in a daze, unable then,

To think, or even speak,

Everything passed him by in a haze

He was there for a further week,

But then in the dock, the magistrate

Passed sentence, said, 'I find,

That a year in a cell might just suffice

To clear your muddled mind!'

 

He did his time in a Yorkshire gaol,

Spent months in a draughty cell,

Fretting and worrying day by day,

Just where was Alice Parnell?

He hadn't been able to contact her,

He wondered what she would say,

Down in the heart of London Town -

Did she think that he'd walked away?

 

He never once mentioned her name in there,

He couldn't be linked to her,

He knew it would implicate her

In the heart of the whole affair,

He asked the warders for papers there

In case she had advertised,

They said he was welcome to read them all

When he got out, next July!

 

His time was finally up, he walked,

And headed for London Town,

Checked at the flat he'd rented there,

She hadn't been seen around,

He walked the streets with a broken heart,

Had even been seen to cry,

Then caught a train back to Mourden Hall,

To check with the Butler, Guy.

 

Guy was a grim, and daunting man,

Was not impressed with his friend,

For prison was such a disgrace, a shame,

Brought friendship to an end,

But when he was asked where Alice was,

Had she been seen at the Hall?

He lowered his lip and looked quite sad,

'I see her, right by the wall.'

 

'Right by the wall of the cemetery,

I see her there every day,

But what has she got to do with you?'

(He said that he'd better not say!)

For days, he stood by the cemetery wall

Walked back and forth for a week,

But Alice was never around for him,

The future was looking bleak.

 

And still he wanders the city streets

To look for her, every day,

His Alice, a dream, like a puff of steam

From the train that she took, last May.

A stone by the cemetery wall is writ

With the following words: 'She died;

In the Awful Disaster at Bishops Fault

With a hundred and ten beside!'

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Doreen]

What a refreshing write! This is so lovely. I was immediately pulled into the poem and could not look away until I read through the whole magnificent piece. I love your rhyme flow, the story, the feeling of joy turning to sorrow. Very well done. Thank you so much for sharing!

[Tate Morgan]

A very well told story it sung with the usual taste you are so well known for

[R J Askew]

A great yarn, most enjoyable. Ach, the horror of being late back, of the guilt leading to a mishap. And then repent at leisure. The guilt and sadness of the lost love very poignant, with the last verse tying everything up neatly. These are my favourite lines, 'His Alice, a dream, like a puff of steam From the train that she took, last May.'

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

When the newly-blossoming bud of love is brought to tragedy, it is always a tearful tale. This one resonates a solitary sadness within us all. Love lost should never be a joy to anyone.

[Valentine]

Wonderful as always..Just read this on another site we are on..God bless..Love Kathie

[Lena M. P.]

Chilling story. What paths we choose; what paths we cross. They both nearly died that day and yet did he not still die figuratively? It sounds as if during life they couldn't be open with their love and even in death that circumstance did not change. He could not say so no one could tell and he walked his days wondering, missing and still loving.

[Ferg]

David-
Another fine narrative...For me, it was not as good as your usual fare...the rhythm and rhyme felt forced in places, especially at the beginning of the piece. But you always bring it round and throw in the twist of fate of the end which never fails to surprise and captivate. I look forward to more as always....

[Mark]

Your gift for taking horror, injustice and other painful circumstances, and rendering them in such a manner that we can all identify with both the victim and the perpetrator is unequalled, my friend!I was unclear as to what caused HIS wreck, but his waiting and yearning for her for a full year, only to discover that she had died that self-same night, was just heartwrenching! Well done, my friend!

[Alicia™]

Awesome poem...!

[Poeticpiers]

another well writ tale my friend