Sunday, 29 June 2014
A Game of Patience
A Game of Patience, 1937, Meredith Frampton
Dressed in blue-stocking grey, to match the sharpness
of her intellect, Margaret Austin-Jones
sits alone in solitary pursuit.
Her eyes deep hazel, her hair sweet chestnut,
crimped in waves so neat and precise they match her
manner and the cut of her dress, (modern,
Vogue-patterned, made for her with care).
Although she's up-to-date, she is but
young and wise in every way but love.
Like Eve she yearns too much for life, desires
to taste the apple, touch the texture of
the ears of corn, impatient for the blood-
red buds to bloom. She hears a footfall on
the stair, her heartbeat pounds, she glances at
the door. Like a scene from a novel, in
a room with a view, the dramatic part
has come; she has played a patient game of
waiting for a suitor to appear, has
craved and dreamed herself a handsome, kindly
knave but little knows she may have drawn instead
a darkly evil, scheming, King of Spades.
This is Sunday's Magpie Tale, read others here