Bryan Deakin

Scottish Poet / Blogger / Community Activist

Lost Back In Time

As I walk along a familiar street,
I see the red brick where a memory was,
Initials still etched in the wall,
But the girl is no longer there,
She went back to her time,
In an earlier encounter.

I take the street to my right,
Back alley style,
Dark, no lights,
A strange mist appears before me,
Denser as it engulfs my body,
Eyes sting, can’t see.

Moments pass, few minutes maybe,
The street Is gone,
Trees to my sides,
Fresh air all around,
I hear a noise,
From the rear, sounds like a horse,
Petrified I slowly turn,
To see what is approaching,
A large white stallion,
Eyes fixed on me.

I try to turn and run,
Feet somehow glued to my stance,
I slowly look up to the hooded figure,
Sitting, elegantly with a royal purple robe,
Halt comes from the figure,
Stallion stops at my side.

Figures legs, touching my black leather cape,
I follow the legs up, up the robes to the hood,
What I presume, by the angle, and shape of the head looking down,
A soft feminine voice can be heard,
With the words “It can’t be” leaving the hood,
“Pardon” is my response.
Figure responds with “it is I”
As hands of figure remove the purple hood,
I look up in shock,
As I see the familiar stranger,
Posed on the horse.

She dismounts the white Stallion,
I look down and see her walk to myself on the coble road.
I yet again follow her up from the legs.
And look deep into her blue eyes.
A strange sensation forces my hand out,
I smile and ask “May I”
She replies with “You May”
And takes my hand.

I find myself leading her to a grassy hill,
Where she and I slow dance,
That is foreign to myself yet I know it,
As if I have danced it many times before,
We indulge in small whispers,
In each others ears.

We stop and engage in a passionate kiss,
After many minutes.
She leads me to the cobble road,
I ask why we keep meeting like this,
She shrugs and takes me to a new figure,
That must have arrived when she and I were dancing,
I look up at this new figure,
He appears to be Royalty
Dressed in a royal looking red robe.

Familiar stranger asks me to kneel,
I obey her wish,
She kneels and the word “father”
Leave her precious lips.
The father take a breath,
Daughter and dark dressed stranger arise.
The king dismounts,
Requests his daughter to walk with him,
I wait patiently, they return,
The girl I have met in my time comes over to myself,
And gives me a kiss on the lips,
Father yells
“Come we have a wedding to plan”
Father and daughter mount there horses.

She smiles at me and rides off,
The strange mist appears faster and denser,
Than before,
Eyes sore, yet again
Temporary Blinded,
Trees no longer at my side, cobbles are gone,
Back in the street,
With a note in my hand,
Saying “Soon we wed my not of this time love”

© 2005 – 2016

Next Post

Previous Post

© 2017 Bryan Deakin

Theme by Anders Norén