For the Love of Mildred PierceA Poem by David Lewis PagetHe
lay awake in his narrow bed And
opened his bedside drawer, Then
fumbled around until he’d found The
thing he was looking for, A
faded folder, covered in dust It
must have been there for years, ‘I
want you to take this folder, son, And
give it to Mildred Pierce!’ His
grandson blinked away a tear And
uttered a silent sigh, Then
dropped his gaze, he found it hard To
look in the old man’s eye, He
knew he wouldn’t be there for long Though
his steely brow was fierce, He
said, ‘Sure Gramps, I’ll pass it along When
I find your Mildred Pierce.’ ‘You’ll
find her back where I left her, when The
way of the world was wide, Up
on the banks of the Darling, she’ll Be
there on the Wentworth side, She
used to teach when the town was young In
a little timber school, I
should have stayed, but the girl had clung And
I guess I was just a fool.’ ‘She
looked so prim in her teacher dress And
her hair was up in a bun, We
used to walk by the river banks When
her teaching day was done, Down
in the shade of the eucalypts I
kissed her there one day, With
her hair let down on her shoulders She
said, ‘Please don’t go away.’’ ‘I
only stayed for the shearing, then I
followed the shearing tracks, I
had to keep on the move as long As
the wool grew on their backs, We
said goodbye at the junction where The
mighty rivers join, I
should have stayed for the love she gave But
my only love was coin.’ The
old man, he was exhausted then, Lay
back, and then he sighed, His
grandson waited a moment, but He
saw that his gramps had died, He
took a look in the folder when He
settled in back at home, And
found a number of pages there And
each one was a poem. One
called ‘Sorry!’ and one called ‘Why?’ And
one that he’d drowned in tears, One
that was just a stark lament ‘For
the Love of Mildred Pierce’. The
boy had blushed at the poem meant To
eulogise her thighs, While
others sought for her tender lips And
the lovelight in her eyes. He
waited until the summer break When
the funeral was done, Loaded
the car and headed out To
where the rivers run, He
thought that she would be dead by this It
was just an exercise, But
when he had asked for Mildred Pierce They
had caught him by surprise. ‘She’s
out on the banks of the Darling You
can’t miss her little shack, She
keeps herself to herself, prefers To
wander the outback.’ He
stopped the car at her garden gate And
he called out by her door, ‘I’m
looking for Mildred Pierce!’ Then heard Her
footsteps on the floor. He
half expected an ancient dame With
half a foot in the hearse, But
what he saw was a lovely girl And
still in her tender years, ‘They
named me after my mother Who
was named for her mother too, But
Gran’s been gone for ever so long So
what did you want to do?’ They
sat on her small verandah, and He
showed her the folder then, ‘My
gramps wrote these for your grandmother, Some
time in the way back when.’ She
slowly read through the pile of verse And
her eyes had filled with tears, ‘I’d
heard all about this shearer from My
grandma, Mildred Pierce.’ ‘He
couldn’t have known they had a child, My
mother arrived in the spring, And
she was told who her father was But
they never heard a thing. My
Grannie died as a spinster, still A
teacher at the school. How
sad that he couldn’t reach her then To
say that his heart was full.’ They
went to walk by the river where Some
fifty years before, A
teacher walked with a shearer for A
magic moment more, They
stopped, stood under the eucalypts With
them both reduced to tears, And
that was the moment he kissed her, For
the love of Mildred Pierce. David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
Reviews
|
StatsAuthor
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
prev
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
