The Girl in the Red Jumper

This is a story which needs telling in its completeness but to do it in one sitting would most likely test your patience and probably wear me out (well, it is 11.35pm and I have been up since 5.00am) So, I thought I'd start at the more or less ending and work my way backwards. All I'll say by way of introduction to the story, which is of course true; (I will never fabricate without telling you that's what it is; why would I? The truth is infinitely more intersting and fantastical I've always found), is that we had travelled the train to Totnes on a lovestruck mission; checked into the Youth Hostel and set off on our search. The following morning, down by the river I saw her for the second time, performing the early morning ritual of yoga though this time, she did not see me; that, (for me), third look came later that day as we passed in the street; literally crossing the road; she from her pavement and me from mine. What follows is the result.

THE SMILE       

Under shade of trees

Dappled by clear blue morning sun,

Poised, in the exercise of peace

She moves;

Lithe as a panther,

Graceful as clouds.

Between the night and day

She hangs in my mind,

Balanced in the sound of Bohemian beats,

Possibility pictured on the canvass of her smile.

Dusky dark in red,

Hair in waves like black silk,

She passes,

Warm and open.

And in the passing, heavy with recognition,

The world waits for the sound of a kiss.

As the delightfully dulcet tones of Roy Ebden used to utter at the end of his radio show: “If you have been; thanks for listening”