Everlasting

We thought we’d last for ever,
us,
our love
mellowing and wrinkling with age
like us,
the stuff of dreams and songs,
of poems and legends.
But
in the end
we were just a moment. 

Dear Busybody

I remember the title.
It was the first book
that I borrowed from
the Children’s Section
of the library. 

We visited my Auntie Mary
afterwards
and she laughed
and laughed.
I didn’t know why. 
I was eight years old
and it was written
for a much older child
and though I persevered
I couldn’t understand much of it. 

I saw it there again years later
and borrowed it a second time.
I still couldn’t understand much,
so maybe it was me, not my age,
though I did understand by then
why Auntie Mary had laughed! 

Mr Joseph’s Mystery

There were four flats in our house,
two up, two down.
All had their own electricity meter,
although Mr Devin downstairs
connected his directly to the mains.
We always knew when he was washing
from the ferocious flash bangs. 

The stairs light was on the House Meter
and the cost was included in the rent.
However in our flat,
not every socket was the same
one mysteriously didn’t work at all.
Mr Devlin quickly explained.
that this socket was also on the House Meter.
He came with his screwdriver and sorted it.
Of course everything was then plugged in there
with an adaptor of gigantic proportions. 

Mr Joseph, the landlord was mystified
at the size of the bills
from the one bare bulb on the stairs.
He changed the bulb frequently
for ones of increasingly low wattage
but still the bills stayed the same.
Eventually we were down to a fairy light
more suited to a Christmas tree
but still the bills stayed the same.
He pondered over the mystery frequently to us all
but we couldn’t help him solve it. 

Then one day, he called unexpectedly,
just knocked and walked into our sitting room.
My flatmate reacted quickly,
“Oh, hello Mr Joseph, how are you?”she said
carefully and surreptitiously leaning over
to unplug the glowingly red multi bar electric fire.
We hoped he hadn’t noticed. 

A few days later he came back with a screwdriver
and fiddled around with the socket for a bit.
Afterwards we had no more House Meter.
But not for long!
Mr Devlin soon came with his screwdriver and sorted it.
And Mr Joseph never solved his mystery.

Author’s Biography

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Find Lynn at: https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/