moment

Her confident scales shimmer,

blinding,

in rainbow hue. A metallic perfection

in a haze of spray, a moment of light, leaping with all her might.

She does not see the cold, sharp talon; or hear the reeling excitement above.

A contented moment, not thought beyond.

Then the suddenness.

Her pierced slippery body in fight -

flapping and squealing,

jerking and shaking,

shuddering

in quick spasms of breath.

As the blankness comes, her eyes fixing down,

darkness descending,

she is vaguely aware of the sails -

of the whooping joy...

before she is thrown back -

confused, disorientated, scared.

Slipping back, below the surface

of her lost innocence.

The match sparks, lighting the next Act, we hush -

my fingers tense around his -no longer

pushing him away. No more lines rehearsed

or spoken,tracing letters on his back;

we chastise eachother -going over

the same lines, again and again and gain...

the next scene - he places the puzzle ring

on my finger,disentangling me

from repentant past, still scripted present;

and I place mine on his - not letting go.

As the music plays our sound track cues, we

play grown-ups; reinventing ourselves to

fit. Conform. Our playschool house, loving spouse:

always redrafting our rhyming couplet.

Home Time

No more looking back, wanting the wasted day to move at speed. No more wishing for wistful home time - feet out in the cold, pattering away like rain, to the car.

I'm home - the cloister corridors echo it. The tall, arched doorways and columned court yard passage open as I pass - recognising me. At last.

The day could not start too soon, nor last too long - the trodden stone stairs and history won't let go of me. They knew this day would come. that I would come. And here I am.

Smiling, from toe to static hair, floating along passageways, walking through walls.

I recite the sonnets, board and mortared; raise the aged scroll above my head in testimony to undulating journey, wavering faith. Reward. the gates have opened -breathe in the incense, the frankinsence and mirth - the old boys appaluse, eyes proud and approving as I sail into the harbour of the school; and finally lay anchor. Home time.