The figure in the corner of the room

A love story.

The Figure In The Corner Of The Room

There is a face in the darkness of the corner, and a hand reaching out for her to come
Though it's just imagination she feels it will be real when the last day of her life is finally run
Sometimes when the firelight makes her dreamy, and the days end lets her mind run free
There's a shifting in her consciousness of time scale, removing the ties 'twixt time and memory
And the time between is bridged and things long past, jump forward as if there's a sudden snatch
And she is once again behind the distant counter, looking up at the lifting of the latch
And the scene is set to run as if it only just begun

Does a soft pleasing brogue, gentle laugh, twinkling eye paint the picture?
Or the tall slender figure in the sunlight through the doorway paint the scene?
Does the warmth in her voice say he is more than an ordinary shopper?
Or the holding of her eye by his say she is more than just a colleen?
He moves to the tie rack in the corner, the way he has so many times before
He picks a tie that he is sick of viewing and holds it up as if not really sure
Everything he views isn't worth the ponder or debating
The silk tie that he holds he neither sees the pattern nor the sheen
He holds it up to better see where she is waiting
Ask him to name its colour he'd say red where it is green
Yet is this where the story really starts? Or did it start the day that they were born?
Do the stars plan the meeting of two hearts like the elements that go to make a storm?

With a sudden blast of pure exasperation he throws down the gaudy little tie
And strides with firm intent and stands before her, and looks at her with pleading in his eye
'How many silly things must I buy? How long must I linger in my choice?
Just to see the colour of your eye, just to hear the music in your voice?
And where for pity sake will be the end? I'll go broke before I even know your name
Must I pawn my every possession? Sell my soul and the devil take the same?
Her eyes grow wide as the words come to her hearing. Her heart does things she never knew it could
She only knows the magic he is weaving seems to change the very make up of her blood
He stands looking at her waiting for an answer. Her mouth is moving but she cannot speak
She waves her hands about in blind confusion. She feels her face go red, her knees go weak
'Would you meet me this evening? ' he asks her. 'Would you let me see you when you've finished here?
Please, I don't wish to seem presumptuous, my manner isn't brazen, it is fear.
Unbeknownst to him there is another person, an elderly spinster, very tall and slim
Who has entered and stands just behind, and awaits the answer just as much as him
Again he pauses waiting for an answer. He thought he saw the slightest little nod
The spinster gives exaggerated nodding, behind him, just to give the girl a prod
'Was that a yes? ' Again the spinster nodding. The girls reply is just a fraction more
He is having trouble with interpretation. Is it a yes? He really isn't sure
It was the slightest, the tiniest of movement, but an assent was anybody's guess
'Was that a yes? ' Again he asked the question and the spinster yells 'Oh for God's sake! Yes! '
Their eyes are drawn to her, though his are laughing, in the girls there's just a hint of worry
The spinster says, somewhat apologetic 'Oh don't mind me, I'm not in any hurry'

So many years have run along times river. So many years have flickered to the past
His voice still echoes soft within her hearing and in her head the music of his laugh
So as days end brings calm contented feelings and the sunlight gives way to peaceful gloom
She turns with a sudden smile of greeting to the figure in the corner of the room.