Let Me Explain
It was after many weeks
of solitude and silence,
staying indoors to deter
the spread of the virus; now
just beginning to go out
and only when I must.
My hair was long and wild,
needing a trim; my friend lives
close to the salon. ‘Come visit me,’
close to the salon. ‘Come visit me,’
she said. ‘We’ll sit in the garden,
together but far enough apart.
No hugs, just tea and talk.’
I let myself in the side gate
to her yard, called her name
up the back steps. But she
had put her hip out, couldn’t
had put her hip out, couldn’t
come down. I climbed up
instead, to her living room.
We blew kisses without breath,
mimed hugs while standing back.
A quiet man, slight, white-haired,
waited for introduction.
I put my hands together
in prayer position and bowed.
He'd come to visit too.
We spaced ourselves
in chairs around the room.
He asked, politely, about my rings:
why those two, on those fingers?
What was I drawing to me?
I instinctively knew he was one
I could tell the tales of those rings.
My friend and I agreed, our jewellery
is never mere decoration. We spoke
some hours, of many magical things.
His few words were gentle, wise.
When I made ready to leave,
she asked could I take him home;
it was on my way. He’d walked
from over the other side of town
to come and see her. Normally
she’d drive him back, but her hip....
I said I’d be happy. She gave me
a bag of greens from her garden.
He carried it to my car. The ride
was mostly quiet, peaceful. ‘Nice
to meet you,’ I said, thinking,
‘I hope I meet you again.’
So that is how I finally entertained
a possibility which various seers
have been insisting on: There is
another man out there for me; this time
another man out there for me; this time
a love not of passion but friendship.
(I most miss the mind-on-mind.)
Was that the one? I doubt it. I’m
not engaged enough to try to make
anything happen. But he was thoughtful,
kind, curious; didn’t even begin
to hog the conversation or pontificate.
not engaged enough to try to make
anything happen. But he was thoughtful,
kind, curious; didn’t even begin
to hog the conversation or pontificate.
A rare man. Perhaps there are more.
Written for Weekly Scribblings #32: I am explaining a few things, at Poets and Storytellers United.
I am sure there are one or two Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteI do know several others, though not in that capacity. They write poems and live in cyberspace.
Deleteyes. go for it ~
ReplyDeleteThis is incredibly poignant!💘 Life has altered so much after the pandemic and has brought about so much change especially in the way we interact with others. I love the mention of the "quiet man, slight, white-haired," waiting for introduction. It feels like the beginning of a strong and sweet connection. Who knows? There might be more. There is only one way to find out *wink* Thank you so much for writing to the prompt!💘
ReplyDeleteOh i luv the possibility of partnership and the mystery that it brings to your narrative
ReplyDeleteHappy you dropped by my blog
Much💝love
Rosemary, I appreciate every word of where you went with this, thoughtful kind and courteous in addition to stimulating conversation is exactly where I am these days. Beautifully rendered and cheers to our unique adornments which do create curiosity and dialogue!
ReplyDeleteYes, yes....go for it. :)
ReplyDeleteA man who didn't try to hog the conversation or pontificate? Lucky! Lucky!
ReplyDeleteI was married to one for 20 years (until he went to be with the other angels). He was a rare treasure and I haven't come across many others, then or since.
DeleteIt doesn't have to be any more than it is, especially if it's already quite pleasant. May we all be surprised by nice moments and congenial company.
ReplyDeleteQuite right, Rommy. I’ve now rewritten the final sentence. What I had before led some people to think I was speculating whether there might be more with this particular man. What I meant to convey was that if there’s one such rare man, there could be others. (Robin got it, in that first comment.)
DeleteHas a lot in his favor! I hope there are more to go around.
ReplyDelete