Thursday, 25 June 2009
His voice had once saved her. Tonight, his voice changed, it was different and one that reflected a past.
She can’t hear him, she can’t understand. Words are just letters, combined and strung together in a pattern with a sound, but they don’t flow, there is no sense.
She is scared. She can hear the devil knocking on his door; she fears the threshold has been broken and that he is running through his veins. Laughing.
A few words and then silence. A sigh, and then a repeat. She wants to say goodbye, tears sting her cheeks. He doesn’t know; he can’t hear her soft sobbing, her short breaths and long pause.
The threat of anger stills her, the calm before the storm, patiently, she waits.
She wants to be strong, she tries to be brave and tell him how much his backward step hurts. A promise once made, she wants to believe, she has to believe.
Where is her friend? Where is her lover? Where is her promise of a changed life?
She wants to be proud. She wants to be happy and certain the past has a closed door.
She waits for an embrace, a kiss, a reassurance
She waits to be brought back to life.
Monday, 1 June 2009
A corner of my new kitchen with my new tea cosy, handmade by a WI group on the Isle of Wight. My mum knew that I would love it. She was right! Once my perfect kitchen is finished I will share, all I need to find is some vintage jugs, teapots and pretty saucers for my shelves.