Wild child

                                           You tore up the asphalt of life’s road

                                               and somersaulted fences

                                           You never reaped the oats you sowed

                                               to gratify your senses.

                     I’d wait in sleepless apprehension 

                         the clock chimed two or three before -

                                           with unrepentant condescension

                                                you turned your house-key in the door.

                                           You didn’t leave a trick unturned,

                                               you drank from every fountain

                                           You laughed at every bridge you burned

                                                and flattened every mountain.

                            

                                           Wayward imp, in some strange measure

                                               your restless spirit was a gift -

                                           Your reign on earth was crowned with pleasure

                                               and God knows, child - you really lived.

- Ann Scarborough Moore
© Copyright 2019. All rights reserved.

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Keeping you posted

                                                Random lady postal clerk - 

                                                    Cape Town Central 08:15;

               Picked by fate to play the part

                  Of witness to my dream.

               The girl who, like a startled hare,

                  Approached your window hatch was me;

               An answer had to be relayed

                  To someone waiting patiently.

               I couldn’t use the telephone 

                  At work, because the walls had ears

               And so I chose a telegram

                  To tell my love that I was his.

                        

               I didn’t want the world to know,

                  So I devised a cryptic code,

               Imagining that only he

                  Would understand what I proposed.

               ‘‘Give me a ring at lunchtime’’

                  Seemed unsuspicious and detached

               To uninitiated eyes;

                  I quickly slid it through the hatch.

               You glanced at it, and then at me – 

                  A slow smile spread across your cheeks.

               I thought you were about to cry, 

                  And then you whispered ‘‘That’s so sweet!’’

               Random lady postal clerk,

                  Thirty years have come and gone;

               I wish that I could let you know

                  The romance is still going strong. 

                     - Ann Scarborough Moore

                    © Copyright 2019. All rights reserved. Image source.

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Going overboard

                             This is my final testament - I hate to disappoint

                                 your hopes for your inheritance, but here’s the finer point:

                             I tolerated selfishness with sacrificial grace

                                 so while it still belonged to me, I played my winning ace

                             and booked a cruise around the world in a coffin lined with lead

                                 with open-ended travel dates, to spoil me when I’m dead.

                             A single cabin with a view has been reserved for me;

                                 which brings me to my last request - don’t bury me at sea.

- Ann Scarborough Moore

 © Copyright 2019. All rights reserved. Image source.

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