TEA AT THE RITZ

Wealth once glided through revolving doors,
rainbowing the walls with jewels.
Louis Quinze salons, mirror reflected,
still enhance the grandeur.

Ghosts of patrons, long gone, like their fashions
now skim the rose coloured carpets,
mingling with office girls
and their Mums.

This place of opulence and tradition,
gilt enriched, historically selective,
serves afternoon tea.

Silver tea-pots and pastry-decked cake stands
anchor the pale pink tablecloths
and tempt the new style guests
to one more bite.

Partaking of this luxury seems unreal,
a ‘one-off’ to be treasured
back home among normality
and tea bags.

Enter a couple, flashing diamonds,
youth painstakingly applied.
Wine colored velvet tails proudly escorts
evening dress and pearl tiara.
Heads turn.

Out of place in their own world,
oblivious of their neighbours drinking tea,
yet, elegantly at ease,
they make a statement…
clinging on.

Marion Sharville ©

THE JUDGE

Will I sleep tonight?
There was a time
when passing judgement
seemed a simple thing.

Clean of hands
and legal-eyed
I watch them shrug away
the dirt that dogs their day.

Each one lays claim
to wander through my nights.
Ignorance and fate
toss heads upon my pillow.

The evil, I can deal with,
cold and sure,
but others creep inside
my wig and gown.

Life caught them in it’s web
before their birth;
chance flung me clear
to sit in judgement here.

Marion Sharville ©

RESURRECTION

Rhythm taps my toes, drums my heart,
chases my blood… a pin-ball machine
of bouncing delight.

Music feeds my soul, calms my brow,
beauties my life… a rainbow of sound
to cascade my ear.

Long after the music has died…
it dances back into my head.

Marion Sharville ©

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑