DaydreamsA Poem by David Lewis PagetI
sit every day in an office, and play With
a ledger that carries my name, And
stare from the window, the clouds scudding grey On
a sky that is always the same, The
river winds down by the weed-winding bank But
is sluggish and slow in its ride, Heading
on out to the estuary, carrying Debris,
adrift on the tide. Just
about here was the place, where in fear They
once straddled the river in chains, And
called up the hundreds, with helmet and shield To
defend this poor land from the Danes, And
often I peer through the rain and the mist And
the grime on the window without, Imagining
Vikings enmeshed in the chains, And
struggling there, to get out. The
office is staffed by grey people in need Who
would like to get home to the wife, They
mutter in tones of their essence and creed While
some of us just want a life, But
Caroline Chambers is not one of these She’s
a flower, sprung out of the weeds, And
I see, as she flits between coffees and teas She’s
a Saxon, her coffee is mead. She
pushes the trolley that carries the swords And
the helmets, and buckler’s too, As
she stands by my desk for a chat and a rest She’s
defiant; she’s one of the few. As
she stares out the window, I hear her declare That
she’s not going to put up with this, The
Danish accountant has stolen her chair And
her venom is mouthed with a hiss. ‘I’ll
poison his coffee, you see if I don’t,’ And
her Saxon blood comes to the boil, I
get fleeting visions of lopping his head, Or
perhaps we should boil him in oil? She
wanders away and she hands out the pay As
I ravish her there in my mind, And
she stares up at me from a puddle of tea Mutters,
‘How could you be so unkind?’ The
following day I can see the affray As
the Legions march into the town, The
Roman Centurions glitter with gold With
their standards held high, not put down, And
Caroline Chambers, Welsh bonnet and dress With
a lilt in her voice, brings the teas, She
stands by the chariot of Boadicea, Brings
the Legions of Rome to their knees! I sit every day in an office, and play With
a ledger that carries my name, And
stare from the window, the clouds scudding grey On
a sky that is always the same, But
Caroline Chambers has shared in my dreams Though
she has no idea, she’s my wife, As
I live in the daydreams of coloured and grey dreams And
desperately search for a life! David
Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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