There is no such thing as reflection

There were times when I walked across bridges,
paused on occasion to watch the coursing of the water;
and often, as is this blessed island’s wont, It would rain
and make me understand how rivers came to be;
then one time, and quite by accident, I bumped into a girl
and we both apologised at the same time.

Her shoe, the left one, came off
and tumbled into the raging torrent,
(actually it was no more than a gentle flow,)
and instantly transformed from trainee accountant
to Arthurian knight, I rode to the rescue.

“Thank you,” she said, a glance from beneath
lowered lashes causing the sun to break through
and the music of insects to grow loud
in the heightening of our senses;
but then hidebound by the modesty of the times
we watched a mother duck and her brood swim by.

“Seems to know her way around,” I said,
the words and their inanity imprinted forever.
She didn’t reply, just smiled,
making me understand she understood;
and after four decades plus, I can still
recall that her shoes were a sort of burnt
orange with Mary Jane straps.

7 comments

  1. Splendid!!

    Douglas,

    How beautifully you build the story. What perfect reflection…oops,
    excuse me, what a perfect recollection. You create an air of innocence
    so deflty. And now I think it is a ‘reliving’ as opposed to a remembering.
    I’m not sure of the right word, but I’m sure of the feeling.

    Sarah

    Like

  2. Hi Douglaus

    What a beautiful story with an engaging voice. I like the way you interject reflections, on behalf of the narrator, about the ways of river and the music of insects. It goes so well with this meeting between young man and woman who have taken notice of eachother. You capture that sense of shyness, wonder and the
    beauty of memory. Thank you for sharing this. It is truly magical!

    My Best
    wendy

    Like

  3. The first two lines pulled me in
    and the crossing of bridges brought to mind
    the places that life takes us.
    The pausing made me think of how we pause
    and watch for a bit before we make a decision.

    “There were times when I walked across bridges,
    paused on occasion to watch the coursing of the water;”

    Such tenderness in these lines:

    “Thank you, she said, a glance from beneath
    lowered lashes causing the sun to break through
    and the music of insects to grow loud”

    That music of insects brings to mind
    not only nature’s celebration of love growing loud,
    But also the speaker hearing more of nature and the natural world
    seemingly growing loud
    as he has declared love to someone he cares for deeply.

    A beautiful poem.
    take care,
    Kerri

    Like

  4. Douglas, I like the poem very much, especially when you allow the heightened emotion to heighten nature around you. The romantic in me wants to know she is still in your life. The poem keeps her there. I am reminded of tender first moments in my own life. Thank you. ptc

    Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s