Looking Up

Looking Up

We waited for you to come and join us on the lawn

The tea cooling in the pot

And David said he thought he’d seen you

Climbing the back stair-case

Not long before we had come out

And mother made some remark about the wayward rambling roses

Casting gloomy shadows over the dining-room windows

Pattering against the glass, making it seem so much darker

They needed severely cutting back

And she would speak to Jenson

When next she saw him

Then David said suddenly that he could see you at last

And we turned around to look

The chairs creaking gently

And spotted you high above the gallery, walking towards the round tower

Patterned by its cloaking ivy-tendrils climbing

And the white signals of your dress

Flashed between the crenellations of sandy-coloured stone

And so we called out to you and waved hello

The house was looking at its best

Hazel-growth softening the harsher edges

And we admired the summer blooms

The grass yielding springy under our feet

And we called out to you again

While David talked about the wedding

Busy with arrangements

His face shining with happiness

We must have looked so small to you

Dolls or puppets on the lawn acting out some domestic scene

Within the grand setting

As you regarded us below

From your parapet-high vantage-point

Staring down at us from above

And the breeze caught your hair, made it float serene

Your eyes calm and steady as if taking in the view

Your face cool-composed, your arms held high aloft

A mumbled prayer perhaps at the very moment

When we all looked up once more

And watched you step out

Into thin air

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016