Friday, 8 January 2010


I was first in my class
At coming last,
Though sometimes one arrived even later:
A girl at the back
In a Halloween mask;
My uncommon denominator.

She was smaller than most,
And like the first post,
You never knew what she would yield.
And she never closed doors
And said this was because
She was brought up, as a kid, in a field.

They divided lost time
Between hers and mine,
But I was the one people noticed,
And long after each one
Of the crowded had gone
I felt lonelier than the remotest.

But I never cursed her
As she was never there,
Being increasingly later each day;
Though once she arrived
You could tell by her eyes
Not to ask what had got in her way.

She had no real charm
And her features were armed
With the weapons of times arsenal,
But as years flew
Her defences withdrew
And her angles were finely annulled.

And I fell for her then
As we happened upon
A mutual dislike of confinement;
In freedom and space
We preferred our own pace
With an appreciation of what lost time meant.

So we found ourselves a match,
And an antique stopped watch,
And a dwelling to root in and thrive;
We removed all its doors,
And ceilings and floors,
And lived life as if we’d just arrived.

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