This Time Every Year

“He wasn’t there, at least not a moment ago?” she half thought, half spoke.

“Who?” little sister asked, answering her own question, looking from the ‘Pay Here’ queue to see what kind of man had got big sister’s attention.

He was there all right, in every sense, lean, six foot, curly close cut hair; caressing silk, eyes dancing over candy stripes, somehow not quite him.

Little sister does a double take, big sister now walking over to him.

His fingers caress each tie in turn. “A female perspective?” she enquires.

“Yours always.” his reply.

She takes a subtle blue design, almost on tiptoes leans in to place around his neck.

A faint stir, foot to foot his balance shifts, her coat unbuttoned, body free. Both sway, gap between them now as nothing, little sister’s eyes popping.

Music, no one remembered what, or if any, only movement, theirs, timeless, of another world. Classic ballroom made sensual, borderline erotic.  

This world stood still, time gave time for free. Little sister’s mouth wide open, seeing yet not believing big sister dancing that way with him.

Arm’s length now, blue tie passed from her hands to his. He bows, escorts her to the line where all completely mesmerised.

“Who is he?” little sister gasps.

“No idea.” big sister smiles. “He comes to me this time every year.”

They turn around, blue tie as his eyes nowhere to be seen.

Present given and received.

EDC Writing – Prose to poetry – getting started.

My life changed in 2011/2012 – close to ending in 2011 – 2012 saw another me, raw, creative writing a release. ‘Believing Sight Unseen’ appeared, ‘His and Her’ words, in the form of messages, Sam & Erin’s mostly, this ‘new’ blog gives quite a few! An ‘old’ blog deleted, you live and learn – a less naïve me now in the online world!

Back to the beginning,  I wrote, a concept,  a synopsis,  for ‘Believing Sight Unseen’  –  sent out to acquaintances, to varying degrees – almost all said ‘we’re intrigued’ – one said ‘ your writing more poetry than prose ‘ – my take on prose, every word, fell into place as this: 

 

It started on a Sunday, a day unlike any other,

How could it be, when two people, so different,

A woman, blue eyed blond,  a man, blue eyed too and greying,

Came across each other, by chance, by fate,

All that matters is it happened.

 

Defying sense, at least the common sort,

They connected in a virtual way, real enough to them.

Naively they invested in each other, no guarantee of interest.

Their messages flowed as if free, though by what means,

Best not to say, you never know who reads.

 

Early days they wrote of lust and sensuality,

An upside down romance in many ways.

Graphic yes, but never crude, it was as if they knew,

Something special had begun, and with tenderness and care,

They explored, albeit blindly, the senses of each other.

 

Words appeared that had meaning as their hearts began to open,

Flowing into minds where spiteful demons lurked.

Feelings deepened, desires and hopes not fully recognised awakened,

Was this excitation of that latent state, the pure free energy of life.

Would either dare to name it.

 

Tensions rose, unintentional, but impossible to avoid,

In their character-limited message world.

So many misunderstandings, the cruel ambiguity of words.

Awful moments came, filled with agony and hurt,

Yet through extraordinary patience and forgiveness went.

 

Pain washed away by tears left scars unseen,

What fool said falling never hurts?

Now so close, so intimate, they clung each to the other,

A dance of sorts, one step forward, so often two steps back,

A strictly outer body experience.

 

Fate played a hand, an unmarked deck, do we ever know.

He took a chance and gambled, all or nothing now,

Feelings too intense to hide, he blew her mind,

Knocked her demons senseless, both touched and moved so much,

Their hearts became engaged, their souls mated.

 

Demons stirred again, exposing fears deep rooted in her past,

Systemic, defying trust, and maddening to male logic.

All attempts to meet met with frustration, so many times she said she would,

But so strong willed she railed against his pressure, all he did was ask.

For crying out loud, what’s wrong with her, and yes what’s wrong with him.

 

Both hearts ached to beat as one, their bond so fragile yet so strong,

Reaching out, yet still not close enough to touch the other.

So hard they tried to bridge what seemed a chasm,

He falling deep within, her teetering on the edge looking down,

Her biggest fear to lose him.

 

What became of these would be lovers,

Where did they land when falling done,

Hand in hand together, or shattered, broken and apart.

Their story now unfolds for those with hearts that can be touched,

And imaginations that can see beyond this man and woman’s words.