My Masseur

A few years ago I used to visit a masseaur on my doctor's recommendation. My slow deterioration of age, fitness and aches had gotme into this situationso I agreed a little TLC would be appropriate. Tis could not have been further from the truth of course. It is one thing to have your body soothed into a relaxed state but quite another to have those aches and pains identified and kneaded into submission by a skilled practitioner. Parting with a few dollars to satisfy the sadistic pleasure of a torturer was a bitter pill to swallow except that for the rest of that day the treatment received I felt reall well. My body felt cleansed of a myiad ills, albeit temporary but it did give me hope my body would not crumble around me.

My return visits were not regular at first but with such well being It encouraged me to attend on a monthly basis. Soon the manipulation, the music in the background and our two way conversations about everything under the sun soon made the visits quite a delight.

I say two way conversations; thisd is not quite truw. While the masseur was a young woman half my age chatted abot many things my own utterances were few. My response may be an admonition at her finding a reclacitrant tendon or a chat about our families, pets or holidays! If she was silent I too might drift off as I melted under her care

This of course was my undoing. Recieving treatment I was stripped down to my jocks and not a stitch more. Can you imagine my chagrin when on the massage table been lowered she tapped my shoulder to say "You can get up now", finding that she had put my socks on me! I gasped "I forgot to take my socks off".

At this she replied with a laugh "No! You were fast asleep I put them on for you." It is one thing to have a masseur, quite another to have a dresser too!"

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The taxi journey

                                

So lonely and sad I returned home

My wife had died in hospital

Leaving me to live a sad life

So I wiped the motes from my eyes

Feeling empty, frail and helpless

The taxi journey seemed endless

I spoke little on the ride back

My mind drifted back years ago

Both then young living a wild life

Then settling down with family

Seeking the days of happiness

The taxi driver delivered me home

I entered now our empty house

I choked with sorrow by myself

Then I lit a candle just for her

Photo found at www.pixabay.com

My first real girlfriend

 

In my last year at school there were times when we had freedom to study, play tennis or just use the library to write our essays. I then I found I was not the only one there but Joan, a very attractive who would also be there doing the same. So we chose that time to to chat in the library or in summer play tennis. She was very good at the game but that worried me little as I was more interested in dating her.

When school was over I often found her walking home and found she only lived a short walk from our house. Before long I was invited to meet her mother and if I stayed longer I'd meet her father too.

In summer time we also spent time walking to the town park where we'd find a secluded bench so we could kiss each other. I adored her and soon I was visiting her on weekends to and was invited to have meal with the family too.

As the school year progressed she said she needed to spend more time studying. I too was concerned as my exams were over and one of the schools governors had asked the headmaster if there was a student interested working in architecture. I was informed and took the job eagerly.

We kept in touch for many months but she too managed to get a job...but in London,so our friendship was shattered. This sudden change was the end of our romance. 

Fifty years later we met again on Facebook; both my wife and her husband had now died. I lived in Australia and she in Britain and we happily told of our lives far apart. Sadly just last year her daughter emailed me telling me she too had died.

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Returning home

I returned home from the city

I'd forgotten the beauty here

With the perfume of the farm fields

That fragrant scent that called me there

And sweet bloom of the wild flowers

With sight of birds over the woods

And foxes sniffing round the roots

I followed the path to the farm

Word had it that all was not well

Dad insisted that I come back

Trusting I made this last journey

To find that Ma was ill in bed

T'was an act I'll not forget

Sadly she died holding my hand

A walk in the park

I often walk in the park. No, that is not true, I walk in the park and I sit down on a bench and I think and observe and feed the bird life with bread scraps.On most days I see the usual walkers and joggers, skateboarders and mothers with babies or toddlers. I don't wave or say hello to them or they to me as we are part of the park just like the seats; the gardens, the grass and the trees. Then there is Maisie. I am sure that is not her name but just one I have given her. She looks cross and holds a coat hanger in one hand and drags a trolley with the other.

The trolley is filled with bags half filled with bottles, cans and plastic containers each worth a few cents at the recycling depot. So we have little debris littering our streets, parks and waterways. It is just too valuable for Maisie and hundreds like her. An army of scavenger ants in Adelaide clearing the city and elsewhere.

As I sit Maisie approaches the bin near me and uses a coathanger for the treasures in the garbage. She is dressed for the task. Even her best friends wouldn't recognise her as she wears a hat that shields her face and protects her from the sun held on by a chiffon scarf.Her clothes would be rejected by opportunity shops and her shoes would probably fit me.

At first I would ignore her and she me. Then one day hiding behind her mask was a sweet face when her grimace relaxed.  I saw a different Maisie as a young girl having her first kiss gazing in a boys eyes, then later holding a baby. So I got up and took a walk in the park 

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The Violin

 

Jane's mother wanted her to play the violin

But Jane, eyes wide open, shook her head sadly

Protesting it was not for her at all

What with fingering frets and the lessons 

Bridges and strings keeping her from sport

Imagining what awful sounds she would make

Made her feel really bad in her belly

He mother now saw how broken she was

Jane protested she was so good at sport

Her voice husky and close to crying

"It would ruin all my plans" eyes in tears

Voice brittle she moaned, "I'm good at hockey"

Falling over

 

I am awake again free to face the world

Making an old mans mark...alive

Bones aching but ready to trot

Hoping not to fall or again

Without doing doing any damage

Hated hollering for help

That's the the limit said my wife

But she allowed me a walker

To push on and sit when tired

Didn't seem natural to me

But brave enough to try it out

Rastus and us at the beach (Chapter 8)

                                          

All the effort that Rastus and I had made to win Penny overshould have done us some good. Everything was fine, when she said she had a day off we would visit or she would come to us; a happy band of three in love. Penny loved Rastus , Rastus loved Penny and me and I loved both Penny and Rastus. Penny seemed uncertain about me though; she appeared to be holding something back. She guessed I had a previous relationship and worried that may repeat itself.

She came down for a sleepover as she called it; not expecting to have much sleep together! What bliss it was to wake in the morning finding the person you loved curled up next to you. I'd kiss her tummy and she'd run her fingers through my hair then hug me tight. We were so bonded in love and inseperable. However it was clear she was not entirely happy; I must have been doing something wrong.

We three went down to the beach early Sunday morning. It was deserted and Penny slipped off her sandles and paddled at the edge of the water. Rastus checked out the scuttling crabs and any washed up fish. Penny walked along paddling in the cool watersinging some happy song but I couldn't make out the words. I was fossicking for perfect shells or smooth pebbles to take home and put on a shelf. 

When I turned round Penny and Rastus had already turne round to sit by the dunes and have a rest. I called Rastus; he looked up but didn't come to me. My mind suddenly clicked. She had given herself to me but I hadn't done the same with her. Clearly she had been hurt and I hadn't realized. I started running up the beachand they looked up seeing me. I said "I'm sorry I've been blind to your pain as you have had a breakup like me."

Penny reached forward, gently touching my face, I said "I was near to losing you wasn't I?"

"I'd not given up" she said, but you came close. Rastus said stick a lttle longer".

 

369 words

Human arrogance is boiling over

This is humanities greatest fault

Thinking they are then beyond assault 

From those who are just worldly critters                                                              

Who do so much good which what matters                                  

We slaughter animals which taste good

As all we think is think is of eating food                                                                  

Then we like to see them all perform                                                                              

In zoo or circus far from where born                                                                                  Humans don't like each other either                                                                              

When meeting colored folk we dither                                                            

Or would prefer a war to be fought 

Such disasters always come to nought

Rastus and us at the market (Chapter 7)

 

Strangely Penny was up before me; she was standing by the window. 

"Come back to bed" I said.

"I daren't, I want you so much" she stated simply. "I'll get a cup of tea."

We were up and taking Rastus in his walk through the park quite early and after breakfast went into Stirling township where there was a Sunday market with flags and bunting waving, the call of the vendors selling their wares and of course the inevitable smell of a barbecued meat and onions filling the air. Rastus behaved himself quite well in the crowd probably more concerned that the barbecued sausages would be on the menu. We needed nothing but to be with one another but I dallied at a bookstall and I found a couple of Leigh Childs novels for Penny.

I asked her how she came to read him. Her response was unusual.

“My days are spent in a rigid environment of hospital discipline and with sick and frightened people. I find that I can enter an escapist world in his books that others might with fantasy or gaming.”

I nodded an agreement; holding on to her hand which I felt was now mine.

So I then said, “I can remember a bookshop owner in the city telling me a similar story where a lawyer dealing with the court system, crime and criminals all day long would escape with “Mills and Boon” light romance to get it out of her system.”

We finally found a seat, a few yards from the busy market and I said simply “I am so glad I found you” and leaned over and kissed her tenderly as the world passed us by while Rastus tried to decide whose knees he should put his head on. 

We were a happy band of three tied together by love. Penny loved Rastus. Rastus loved Penny and me. I loved both Penny and Rastus. But the relationship between Penny and me was a little odd. She was funny, warm and so lovable…but I could sense she was holding something back. She had guessed that I was recovering from a  previous engagement from  which I had emerged but with a few thorns for my troubles. 

367 words

The pond in my garden

I loved the pond in my garden

Lotus flowers beamed up at me

At night they snuggled down in bed

Just like my lovely wife and me

Little fish were swmming there too

In the water safe in the shade

We could see it from the window

Our dog was pleased that it was there

He often lapped at the water

Wife said his job was to test it

And warn of the floating debris

My memory recalls the sadness

The awful day my dear wife died

I held her cold hands and her wrists

This made me want to leave the house

For it spoke only of my wife

Who no more would sit on my lap

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