A Poet's Prayer - Part One
A Poet's Prayer
Chapter One
"And how are you this morning, Mrs. Stainton?" Robert brought her a steaming mug of coffee. "Enjoying wedded bliss?"
She laughed and lifted her lips to kiss his cheek.
"Ever so much, my dear."
"How good of your neighbour to watch over Thomas and Minnie, while we're away."
"Yes, indeed. Mrs. Deacon is invaluable. And Dorothy promised to pay them a visit. They couldn't be more thrilled. The kids took to her like ducks to water!"
"Do you mind, Rose darling..." Robert began, as he produced a scrap of paper and a pencil. "I'd like to write you a poem."
"Must I sit still as if you were sketching my likeness?"
"Only for a couple of minutes, my dear."
And so she posed, ensconced in a dressing gown and smiling disposition.
As promised, the poem only took a few minutes to scribble.
"There," he announced, proudly.
"May I read it yet?"
"Not just yet," he responded with a wink. "I'd like to add it to your surprise collection."
"So you'll spring all your genius on me all at once?"
"As a birthday gift, my dear. Or wedding anniversary. I haven't quite decided."
Rose laughed. "You do realise I will be intensely tempted to take a peek. Unless you hide your compilation somewhere remote."
Robert lifted her chin and touched her lips with his. Then he laid his palm on his chest and smiled. "I hide them all in here, Mrs. Stainton."
"A place I cherish," she replied. "A place that could never be remote."
Chapter Two
"Mummy!" Miriam squealed as Rose entered the house. "Mummy, guess what we learned at school today!"
Rose put on a thoughtful expression, but gave up. "No idea. You tell me."
"How to write a poem!"
"Indeed? Your new Daddy will be overjoyed to hear that!"
"When's he coming home, Mummy?"
"Very soon, Thomas. Very soon, my dears."
Rose wrapped both children in a warm embrace.
"Now run along and play. And be sure you thank Mrs. Deacon again before she turns in for the night."
Off they both ran and Rose was left alone to ponder this ongoing trend, this running theme of this dear family of hers. Poetry, indeed! What were the chances the schoolmaster wanted the kids to embark on that adventure. To learn that skill of all skills.
She smiled, remembering If Hearts Could Fly - the poem she treasured the most.
"Miss Rose! Rose Stainton?"
The rap on the door startled her and she hastened to open it.
"Yes?"
"I beg your pardon, ma'am. My name is Alfie. I'm the delivery boy up at the factory... I've been sent to tell you your husband has been in an accident. It happened while he was on his way home. He's been taken to hospital." The boy's urgent gaze faltered. "I'm sorry, Miss Rose. I fear for the worst."
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