A couple of hours to kill after Mounia cancelled lunch on me at the last possible minute, and I find myself wandering in the shops at the Mall. My footsteps (or fate?) drew me to Borders.. and suddenly I was travelling down memory lane at the poetry section... Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley.. I forgot time..
"... A slumber did my spirit seal.. I had no human fears.. She seemed a thing that could not feel.. the touch of earthly years.."
"... She was a phantom of delight when first she gleam'd upon my sight.. A lovely apparition sent to be a moment's ornament.."
The peotry that used to soothe years back worked their magic again, and i lost touch with reality as I re-discovered the joy and serenity of reading poetry, escaping here and now to imagine the vivid images painted by the poet.. Wordsworth has always been a favourite..
I think I laughed a few times, and certainly smiled happily as the memories flooded.. But no one witnessed my delight.. Not a soul does 18th century romancists seem to draw nowadays..
I was alone to sit back in yesterday..Serene solitude found companionship an hour later with the arrival of an old couple, laboriously making their way over, aided by walking sticks. They were close to seventy, painfully bending over to reach the books on the lower shelves. The candid laughter of the old man as he read the 'Nation's favourite poems' struck an echo in my heart. I had found kindred souls..
We never talked.. content to sit next to one another, escaping reality through the magic conjured by our favourite dramatists, youth and old age shared companionship unspoken.
And I felt blessed that I was still sensitive to words that oft brought tears to my teenage eyes.. Blessed that under all the layers I wear nowadays to shield myself from thorns so easily bestowed by life and its many actors, deep down a little girl still remembers and responds..
