The Music of the Reeds

It had been the worst of years, I seemed

To always be in strife,

First my business in receivership

And then my darling wife,

She decided that our poverty,

Once Banks had seized our home,

Was the perfect opportunity

For her to leave, and roam.

 

So she roamed with a protector,

The accountant I’d released,

When I found that through his perfidy

I’d have to call the police,

He was always just one step ahead,

My wife knew me too well,

So they took the Channel Ferry, left

This fool, to rot in hell!

 

I was heading for a breakdown,

All this fretting, and the grief,

I was hell-bent on disaster,

Vowed to catch this blatant thief,

And my wife, I would have killed her

For disloyalty, I swear,

So I followed them through Europe,

Catching glimpses, everywhere.

 

But they managed to elude me

And I ended up in Greece,

I had gone through all the money

I had salvaged for the chase,

With what little I had left, I found

A villa I could rent,

By a woodland, in the marshes

I could brood on what I’d spent.

 

It was broken down and basic,

Had been empty there for years,

And the roof was badly leaking,

Rain could mingle with my tears,

I felt sorry for myself, and it

Was lonely, stuck out there,

Where the isolated shepherd came

To see, to stand and stare.

 

But they soon had lost their interest

In the stranger in their midst,

I was left to brood in silence

Walk the woodland in the mist,

And I skirted round the marshes

Where there lay a shallow lake,

It was fresh, and it was verdant

And unspoiled by man’s estate.

 

When the weather was idyllic

I would sit and think of Beth,

Of the time there on the hillside

Where the world had held its breath,

But the years of wine and flowers

They had slowly been submerged,

And with age, the passion sours

As we lose that primal urge.

 

I would lie awake at midnight

Hear the music of the reeds,

With the wind so gently playing

Through the marshes and the trees,

And one night I left the villa

When I heard a certain note,

And I saw a sudden movement,

That I thought must be a goat.

 

But my eyes had slowly focussed,

It seemed old and tired, and turned

And it stared at me quite sadly

It had horns, a beard that curled,

And it stood up on the hindquarters

A goat is noted for,

And it clutched the pipes of Pan

To breathe soft music, from its core.

 

It stood there for but a moment

Then it walked into the wood,

With its shoulders bowed and beaten,

And it staggered as it moved,

But the music was so wistful

Of a love, long lost before,

That my eyes began to glisten

As the lake lapped at the shore.

 

In a month I’d met with Gaya

Who I’d seen, back through the trees,

Dancing gently in the moonlight

Casting petals in the breeze,

And she came back to the villa

Where she saw to all my needs,

And we lie in love, and listen

To the Music of the Reeds.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Le Marquis de Châ..]

Beginning with a hint of comedy, through pain, beautifully descriptive scenes of nature, forgotten hints of folklore and rediscovered happiness - charmingly crafted and filled with a genuine sense of heartfelt authenticity. The first poem of yours I have read, but decidedly not the last.

[MoriartyMesa]

You know what this screamed to me?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAUobrjo9-k

[Tate Morgan]

This is a feeling I know too well.it is the worst to think of in the life we call ourown.
I am glad you lived through it and made something good of it .It shows a sound mind that can review and remember.Forgive but not forget. I walked this road too .And at times thought i would never be the same.But if we last long enough it feels more like a dream.i prefer to remember the better days of those years.They were spent in company that appreciated my company.Yours is surely a tale worth the read.
Your friend
Tate

[Chris]

a tale worth pausing to hear and feel.

[Valentine]

One of the best ways to forget an old love..is to get involved with someone new..Sadly he wasted a lot of time trying to rehash the lost past..It just does not work that way..Nice one as always David..Love to you and Lyn..Kathie

[MOON]

Lovely write , loss makes us dig deep and find beauty in what matters.

[Lisa Ring]

So much beauty born from pain. You have captured the essence of life once again. It is not until we have lost it all that we can truly appreciate what exists. We are free when we finally loosen our grip and let go. Yet again, your writing is impeccable.