Rambling Man

This was another piece written for The Wells Muse, issue 5 (https://madmagz.com/magazine/971515#/), however I did start it last year with just the idea. But when I knew I needed a piece or the issue I decided to finish it for it.

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Suitcase in hand, he bent over her sleeping form. Her long red locks that were usually straightened, covered her perfect face and began curling from the day’s intense heat. As he smiled softly to himself, he knew she would hate the fact that her hair was curling, she would die for straight hair.

 

He watched her chest that was modestly covered by the thin silk sheet rise and fall with each shaky breath she took, a bad dream he thought to himself as he sighed. Yet, he continued to watch it rise and fall as he caught his own breath. Why are you doing this? He whispered to himself as she turned over, facing him but with her eyes still closed as her breath steadied. As he let out a long, drawn breath he kissed her forehead and straightened up. She smiled softly in her sleep at his touch. Leaving a folded piece of paper on her drawer, he reached for the handle and exited the cheap motel.

 

The click came quick and strong to stop the snow seeping in, her eyes opened slowly and adjusted to the early morning light. However, she realised that it was too late. The rambling man had left as the bright lights came through the icy windows.

 

Sitting on her bed, she was rereading the letter again, she had thought her love would make him stay this time. Her naivety got the better of her again as she read the letter out loud,

I’m sorry to do this again, but we both know I’m not much of a lover, I’ve always been a runner. I promise if I ever come round again, I hope that I can be the man you want me to be, although I understand if you find the right man before then. But please, babe, remember I will always love you.

 

Crumpling the letter in her hand, she placed it in the drawer. A stack of letters already there.

 

A few days had passed when he sat in a motorway diner, sipping the frothy hot coffee he had just been served. He thought of her and could not help but let that small smile play on his lips. He took one long swig of his drink as he rose from his chair and strolled over to the payphone. Putting the money in, he dialled her number. It rang a few times before it cut to voicemail. Sighing, he said what he should have said in the letter,

“I know you must hate me again, but let me tell you that whilst I may have a gypsy soul, you are the only one that has ever made me want to build and stay. And while it’s not yet, we’ll soon be together and I cannot wait. Please hold on, I feel that we belong.” He placed the receiver back on its cradle while he rested his head against the wall. He knew he must have messed up really big this time.

 

This was another piece written for The Wells Muse, issue 5 (https://madmagz.com/magazine/971515#/), however I did start it last year with just the idea. But when I knew I needed a piece or the issue I decided to finish it for it.

Sorry for not posting this past week, I was away on holiday in Malta. I shall try and be more frequent from now on until University begins next year. Thank you for bearing with me.

Morning Coffee

Short poem on morning coffee and memories.

 

It is strange to think,

That you are just a memory.

That someone who once was so important

Now is just a memory.

The smell of my morning coffee,

Is your smell.

The smell of cigarettes in the street,

Is your smell.

The early morning wake up calls,

Is secretly you.

The Sunday roasts that do not compare,

Are yours.

And whilst there will be no one like you,

Again.

I need to let you rest as just a memory.

Here is a short poem to entertain you for a while. Ever so sorry that I have not been posting much or regular just recently but it has been deadline and exam month galore for me. Now that I am off for summer and only have my job to contend with I should be able to post more regular and share more reviews, creative writing and insights into my life. Though I am going away for a week next Saturday, so bare with me. Thank you for understanding.

Just a small poem I wrote for The Wells Muse (https://indd.adobe.com/view/e7461d5c-c563-49e9-b87e-84657d2d5db9). It was a poem written for someone special that had a huge impact on my life. I hope you enjoy reading it.