Posted by: Ron DuBour | June 27, 2017

He was Blind~by Karen King


 

 

He was Blind

He was blind,
Blind to her words.

She wrote a myriad of poems,
About humanity, nature
Fun and the paranormal,
But he could read none of them

He missed her thoughts,
Her emotions and her stories;
Some funny, some bitter,
And some sad.

He should have worn
Dark glasses
And carried a white cane,
As he couldn’t read a word.

It didn’t matter,
Because he could read her.
He told her to wait eight years
And they would meet again.

She didn’t believe a word,
Wondering what game
He was playing
And they parted.

He’d told her the timing was wrong,
And they would
Meet again
When the time was right.

Her subconscious heard his voice
On return from holiday.
She bought a take-away
From a different, local restaurant.

He was waiting for her
And smiled as she walked in.
He was with his Father-in-Law,
Finishing their final drinks.

She knew his wife had passed
And sensed this clearly.
Confusion and shock
Passed through her.

Eight years on,
She still felt the attraction
And ordered her meal,
Somewhat distracted…

She had vowed
To give up men
As she had big plans
And would not be diverted…

Yet, she remembered his
Sense of fun,
She remembered
His soul.

She had forgotten things
For time takes its toll
And life moves on
At an unbearable pace.

Yet, she agreed
For him to go to her house
And see if they only had a past
Or if there was a future.

She had written
About life and love
And wondered if he could
Now read or if he would still be

Blind,
Blind to her words.

Karen King Copyright 25 June 2017

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