David Lewis Paget

(22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

The Witching Days


‘I may be old and decrepit now
And you may think that I'm done,
You laugh at me as I shuffle along
But you don't know what I won,
You think the world is your oyster now
But you're only barely a teen,
When I was young, in the witching days
I married a Faery Queen.'

‘You laugh and play with your silly phone
And you text, to say you care,
But all those buttons won't help you breathe
The scent in her fragrant hair,
That phone will never caress her throat
Where the skin is smooth and fine,
Or hold her delicate hands in yours,
But I still remember mine.'

‘I found her sat in a faery ring
Where the mushrooms used to sprout,
A tiny circle of magicking
When her father let her out,
I still remember the muslin skirt
That she wore below the knee,
And the chiffon blouse with a tiny broach
And the smile that she had for me.'

‘Her lips the colour of cherry wine
Her eyes, deep pools in a glade,
She led me into the bluebell woods
And under the trees, we played,
She let me into her mysteries
When a mist blew in with the breeze,
And gave her lips for a tender kiss
In the way that she used to tease.'

‘We tripped together the farmer's field
And I helped her over the stile,
We hid ourselves in a hedgerow where
The birds had nested awhile,
We stared in awe at a crimson sky
When we woke up late in the hay,
I wed her on a deserted beach
Just after we ran away.'

‘So don't go laughing behind my back,
And don't go pitying me,
I've lived the life, and I've loved the wife
I found by the magic tree,
So you, get rid of that mobile phone,
Get out where you can be seen,
She's still out there with her scented hair
If you want your Faery Queen.'

23 March 2013

Submitted: Monday, March 25, 2013

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