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Noon in a country inn, farm men sit gossiping

Homely chatter of folk, sharing the latest joke

Appearing at the door, a man not seen before.

His long black hair aglow, shining in a bright halo

Earrings that she would choose, on his hands strange tattoos

Silent now, as they stare, all eyes upon him there

To this familiar room, he had not come too soon.

Despite the barman’s frowns, double rum he downs

In one gulp, turns, retreats, out to the sunlit street.

Inside, the why and whom reclaims the silent room

Fortified for his task, was courage all he asked?

Down the expectant lane, where the bright bluebells reign

Wild garlic in the hedge, reminds him of his pledge

This task to cleanse his soul, reaching his cottage goal

As his hand and gate meet, the rusty hinges squeak,

The sound to trace, at the window appears her face

The cottage door flung wide, arms outstretched, no more pride

All inhibitions fled, “I knew you’d come,” she said.

  © Arthur F Mylam