Thursday, June 30, 2011

Silent Secrets

She kept her poems
in a red floral tin
on the top
of the pine dresser
in the kitchen.

Her kitchen had the aroma
of fresh soda bread.
A mug of half-finished tea
stood on the counter.
Her glasses, a note book and pen
were stacked neatly between
the brass clock and the radio.
On the window sill,
she had a vase of fresh flowers,
cut from the garden.

Life was a ritual for Gladys.
It became a ritual for Bert.

She took in washing daily.
She pegged the garments on the line
with perfect precision.
Bert watched her from the window,
admiring her hands at work,
the sun shining on the side of her face,
catching the light in her eyes,
the glossiness of her hair.

When she was outside,
he secretly looked at her poems.
With trembling hands and a beating heart,
he read them,
inhaling her words,
drinking in her unspoken love for him.
He put her poems back carefully
keeping her secrets safe.

Sitting at the table
waiting for the daily rituals to begin,
Bert noticed the tin box was gone.
She left him that day.

He sat in silence,
lost without her
and their silent secrets.


  1. A fine, warm tribute to a gentle, loving couple from a very different and simpler time...
    Much to enjoy here, Maire XX

  2. Barbara, thank you for your comments, it was a different time and there are shades of me in this woman, I did not know of OCD, she did not either to my knowledge but I can see how I was obsessive about life when we got married first, had to have the house in perfect order, Jim did not know what hit him, newspapers disappeared, pens, everything he put down had to be put in a "place" - so interesting to see history repeat itself. I am more relaxed now but it took years. xx