TWILIGHT DELIVERY

TWILIGHT DELIVERY

The flickering light calls from

across the disused railway embankment,

a lonely beacon sending signals

into the misty grey dawn.

 

Quietly questioning a world

still wrapped in strong arms of slumber.

I consider sending an answer,

would that I understood its coded question.

 

I’m drawn into its intoxicating world by

the pulsating rhythm of its incandescent heart.

My mind drifts, blurring my focus

on the insistent silent sentinel.

 

The clank of a closing gate

breaks the seductive spell.

 

It’s time for the next delivery…

~~~~~

 

The deserted school lies cold and alone.

The mournful silence of its empty halls

punctuated by an occasional click and clank

as old steel arteries creak grudgingly to life.

 

A mechanical heart starts pumping, once more,

a spring of life into cold dark walls

as tears of condensation beat a reluctant retreat

against an onslaught of warm, thawing breath.

 

The vacant playground echoes

with the sound of cheerful children

playing games, the like of which

I can only wistfully wonder.

 

Ethereal specters racing around

in the intangible mind of the dreamer,

with cries of glee and simple song;

smiles and laughter, life-force so strong.

 

Something distracts me

for no more than an instant

and the restful reverie is gone;

no more than a muted memory.

 

All is silent,

all is still.

The calm before the storm

of the coming day.

 

The twinkling taillight tells me

It’s time for the next delivery…

~~~~

 

Perched upon a cold wooden bench

I can see the soft shimmer

of early morning dew glistening

on neatly tended lawns.

 

The tree-lined barrier damp and dripping

moisture from nature’s morning breath

as tireless spiders weave webs of mystery

within the trees bountiful arms.

 

Leaves of soft, wet leather dance

upon slowly swaying branches.

All is quiet, yet the silence only serves

to intensify sounds so taken for granted.

 

The melodious calls of fluttering birds

stretching wide, wings of wonder,

the gentle sigh of rustling leaves

disturbed by the cool gentle breeze.

 

As I sit watching, listening, feeling,

a calmness descends like a warm wooly blanket

and for a single sweet moment in time,

I am at one with the dawn and its waking glory.

 

Time stands still as

the hypnotic symphony

pulses through my veins

like a euphoric, calming drug.

 

In a trance-like state

I contemplate

the mesmeric majesty

of the living, breathing world.

 

But the complaining creak

of the old hall door opening

sends reluctant ripples

across my lake of panacea.

 

It’s time for the next delivery…

~~~

 

Aching muscles tensing

as I strain to gain

mounting momentum

on my trusty metal steed.

 

Cold morning air biting

through jacket and jersey

as tears conspire with the chill

to keep secrets from wide watchful eyes.

 

Panting, as the icy air sears its way

to the very core of my being,

its frozen fingers delving deep inside

to stretch the already waning tide of will.

 

The squeal of biting brakes

brings me a halt once more,

leaving mind and body to the struggle

for barely concealed composure.

 

A brief respite at the end

of my torturous trek,

to catch my bated breath

before the long journey back.

~~

 

I casually ride along the quiet lanes,

marvelling at the dramatic scenery

unfolding before my wonder filled eyes.

 

The slowly rising sun setting fire

to wind scattered clouds gently drifting

across the burning skies of dawn.

 

High and distant vapour trails

blazing their course like crimson scars

across the flesh of the heavens.

 

Mother Nature in all her grace and glory!

~

 

And all the while…

behind the colourful curtains,

beneath their warm sheets

and within their loving arms,

the living silently slumber on.

 

Sweet dreams!

 

 

Written by Darren Scanlon, January 2000.

Revised 5th July 2015.

©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

COPYWRITE IMAGE

12 Comments Add yours

  1. Darren, this is thought provoking. It’s a beautiful write with one verse flowing and blending well into the next. It’s kind of haunting, in a way: age, time, solitude, and an awakening with superb imagery.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thankyou so much for your kind words. 😊

      Like

  2. breakdownchick says:

    Beautiful! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Annie B says:

    Love This, Darren

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thankyou Annie 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  4. olganm says:

    I love the cadence and its reflective nature. Great work.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Olga.

      Like

  5. noelleg44 says:

    Love this – this was my husband’s job when he was a kid.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Mine too and then my children. This was based on my observations whilst helping them with theirs. 😊

      Like

  6. joylennick says:

    Husband made his own bike many years ago, and had a paper round. Lovely cadence and imagery.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow, thats dedication for you. I used to love those cold but quiet mornings helping my sons.

      Like

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