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A Waltz down Memory Lane


I am reposting this story I wrote a number of years back for the benefit of my new followers, I hope by enjoying the added music you will appreciate the full benefit of the story

GEORGE was awakened – as he had for the last 20 years – by the morning sun spreading her warming rays through the partially-opened curtains on his window.
His morning routine never varied either, shaving and dressing part of a routine he had learnt from his Army days, so long ago now, with the memories re-surfacing only when he allowed his memory to wander.
George shuffled down the corridor of the old nursing home he had come to call home, and as usual knocked on the door of number 23. A thin weak voice asked him to enter.
Marge was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her long hair…hair that used to glow golden in the sunlight but which now had turned to white. Marge had been a resident longer than George, but nursing staff had noticed they developed a mutual friendship. They shared each other’s company, enjoying long walks together, and were always playing cards or listening to George’s old phonograph records.
As Marge put the finishing touches to her hair, George reminded her it was time for breakfast, and offered his arm as they shuffled down the corridor to the dining room. They were always the last to arrive, and the last to leave, sitting at the table they had shared for many years. Other residents respected the fact that it was ‘their’ table, and no-one else ever sat there.
The breakfast conversation always the same…the weather, the change in seasons, especially Spring, with the emergence of the daffodills and marigolds in all their rich new colours.
George had replayed this conversation for 20 years now, and never tired of watching the shine in Marge’s eyes as she recalled every piece of the awakening of each season. He loved to see the shine in her eyes as she recalled forgotten days from her childhood.
Breakfast over, they were, as usual, ushered from the dining room to allow staff to prepare for the day’s dining regime.
They wandered out into the garden for their daily walk. Marge loved this time of the day. The sun gave her warmth, and brought out the girlish colours on her parched and ageing skin. She allowed George the privilege of holding her arm as they strolled down to the big old Maple tree, the one with the old bench that they had sat on for over 20. George remembered it well, but for Marge, it was a a bench she sat on for the first time each day.
Marge’s face lit up as George told her all about his life, and details of a grown-up family. She asked questions about his children, and how many grandchildren he had. With infinite patience and understanding, and with a far-away look in glistening eyes, he told her about two sons and a daughter, and give details about a granddaughter and two grandsons. Marge would sigh wistfully and tell George how much she enjoys hearing about his family.
He asked Marge to tell him all about her family, but she flatly refused.
George recalled their very first conversation, on that bench under the old Maple tree, when Marge confided that she had a medical condition, and couldn’t remember any of her past life…that’s why she loved hearing all about George’s life, and his family.
The morning slipped away as the two old friends shared company and friendship, until Marge asked George if he would mind helping her back to her room. She was tired, and wanted to have a small nap. George helped her to her feet, and gently escorted her back to her room. But they would, Marge insisted, have their usual afternoon card game, and listen to George’s old phonograph.
George ambled down the corridor towards his room, also with the intention of a morning nap, when he spotted Marge’s Doctor, Doctor Graham. As they stopped for a brief chat, George asked how Marge’s tests were progressing. Doctor Graham knew the relationship between the old couple, and had no hesitation in telling George the truth.
“As you know,” he said quietly and deliberately, “Marge has a medical condition whereby she cannot recall her past. We have done every test medically possible, but can’t explain her condition. What we find perplexing is that every few years, Marge comes out of this condition and can recall all of her past, every bit of it, in great detail, but these instances only last for about half an hour before Marge fades back into a world that is a complete mystery to the medical profession.
“I’m sorry George…that’s the way it will always be…but you are a great comfort to Marge, and in her world I am sure she knows and feels the love and comfort that you bring her.”
George retired to his room, but sleep was as elusive as a butterfly. He pondered the ways of the world and the many vagaries of life, and wondered how, in old age, these earthly emotions of love and memories take on such huge proportions in an ageing mind.
As he drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts were about Marge’s emotions and feelings if she actually came face to face with her past.
George and Marge were in the habit of having their midday meal in their rooms, and late in the afternoon George would get his deck of cards and his old phonograph, make his way to Marge’s room.
Today they played cards quietly, enjoying each other’s company while listening to George’s favourite old dance records. As one record finished, Marge suddenly threw her cards onto the table.
“How come you never visit me like you always used to?” she asked.
George saw a look of complete comprehension in her eyes.
“You never tell me about the children, or how the grandchildren are doing,” a distressed Marge continued.
George sighed; “I visit you every day and tell you how the children are,” he replied softly. “Also, as you know, that shop of ours takes up a lot of my hours.”
“Tell me about the children, and how the grandkids are doing at school,” Marge asked.
George gently took Marge’s hand, and proceeded to tell her the full story of her illness, and went on to tell her all about her children…the same story he had been telling her for the past 20 years as they sat under the old maple tree. He passed her a faded picture of three beautiful children with their grandchildren, and the tears cascaded down her cheeks.
George told her about their sons. One was a doctor, the other a barrister. Both had boys at university…their daughter was married and had given them twin grandaughters.
Marge listened quietly, tears continuing to fall, and made sure her frail hands were clasped in his.
George gazed into Marge’s eyes and saw the overwhelming love that he was also feeling.
“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked.
As Marge got to her feet, George moved over to the old phonograph and selected a record that he recalled playing for her only six times. As the music started, he took her in his arms, and wrapped in each other’s embrace, not saying a word, they did a slow waltz around the cold nursing room floor.
The years fell fell away as the two lovers danced their way back through time, and many memories…days and nights of carefree love and laughter… the world was their oyster…and they were the pearl, a pearl of magical colours, combining to make two hearts as one.
Marge gazed into George’s eyes and told him of her undying love. “I have loved you since the day we met,” she said. “I know I have been sick, and that you are with me always. I feel you in my arms every day, and I will feel your love in my heart for eternity.
“This time George, I don’t think I will be returning. We are getting older…time has flown…but just remember that I will always love you.”
George was also crying as he held her close, whispering in her ear that he would always be by her side, and that their love would never die.
The record finished playing and, as old 78s do, went into a scratching mode.
Marge suddenly pushed George away, demanding to know what he thought he was doing…and asking why he was in her room.
George could see the vagueness in her eyes; “It’s OK Marge…I’m just helping you back to the card table,” he said tenderly.
“I don’t want to play cards any more,” Marge said. “I”m tired…I just want to lie down.”
George helped her to the bed and made sure she was comfortable.
“And take that infernal scratching machine with you,” Marge said…”it’s giving me a headache.”
George asked if she wanted to play cards again the following day, and got a polite but brief nod before she asked him to leave.
George picked up his old phonograph, glanced back at the bed as he closed the door, and with tears in his eyes whispered words that only the angels could hear….”I love you Marge.”
Nights can be long and lonely in the nursing home where George and Marge lived.
As Dawn broke through the windows, heralding the start of another new day, the night nurses were logging off as the new shift began their first rounds of the rooms.
But Marge couldn’t be woken. She had finally left a world of dreams and memories that only she could understand. In her hand was a faded photograph of three young children.
The young nurse made her way back to the nurses station to report her finding to the sister on duty.
The sister told the nurse to advise George, as she knew that they were the best of friends.
George’s room, unusually, was in darkness. George had also found peace with the only love he had ever known.
His face was calm, with just the hint of a knowing smile on his lips.
The only sound in George’s room was the scratching of a record that had been playing on the old phonograph.
As the nurse turned off the player, she glanced at the title of the record that had been obviously playing all night. It was ‘The Emperor’s Waltz.’
The young nurse wasn’t to know it was the waltz that was played on a wedding day many years before she was born…a waltz for two young hearts that had sworn eternal love. and who now waltzed among the stars, locked in each other’s arms – and hearts.
Many years later, as the old nursing home was being demolished to make way for a new sub-division, a work crew came across an ancient phonograph in the cupboard of a boarded-up storeroom. An old LP record was still on the turntable.
A worker brushed away the dust and cobwebs, turned the phonograph on, and he and his mates listened silently, wondering at the story behind the beautiful tune of ‘The Emperor’s Waltz.’

Miss Rose Paynter.JPG

 
31 Comments

Posted by on November 7, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Portrait Of Romance


He Sat Alone

Moonlight

Breaking Through The Curtains

Of The Old Room

He Gazed In Loneliness

At The Dim Portrait

Faded Through Time

Upon The Wall

His Eyes Were Tired

And Sleep Was Soon

To Cross His Pale Blue Eyes

Old Eyes Of Beautiful Memories

Of Beautiful Love

The Portrait Flickered

In Moonlight Glow

And Upon His Silent Form

A Young Girl Smiled

Into His Heart

His Memory Wandered

To Times Of Younger Days

He Was Young And Carefree

Of Heart

She Held The Hand

Of A Younger Love

Her Face Joyous

And Full Of Laughter

In Romance And Love

Their Dream Of Dreams

Wandered

To Memories Of Many Lives

In Many Places

Always Together

Hand In Hand

Always Young

Dancing And Romancing

In Passions Of Love

Never Fading

Never Waning

Upon The Wall

The Portrait Flickered

In Moonlights Glow

Engraved Within

A Faded Frame

Of Long Ago

Were Two Lovers

In Loves Embrace

As Dawn Arose

They Found Him There

All Alone

A Gentle Smile

Upon His Face

Upon The Wall

They Saw His Gaze

A Beautiful Girl

All Alone

An Angels Smile

Upon Her Face

 
45 Comments

Posted by on October 1, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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We Danced Between Stars


You Opened My Heart To Love

When You Opened The Door

To The Heavens And Stars

Through The Gateway

Into The Paradise

Of Heavens Love

Where Among The Angels

Of Love

We Danced The Dance

Of Eternal Hearts

That Night In Each Other’s Arms

We Had Eyes For Only One

That Was The Night We Met

And Vowed Our Love

That Was The Beginning

The Night You Opened My Heart

To Love

The Night You Opened The Door

To The Stars

You Took Me By The Hand

And Walked With Me

The Stairway Of Love

You Gave Me A Wonderland

Of Love

You Gave Me Your Heart

 
16 Comments

Posted by on September 20, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Nothing But Memories


Nothing But Memories

Nothing But Dreams

To Recall

Through A Heart

Awash With Tears

Alone I Stand

My Heart

Has No Romance

It Has No Shine

For Now Alone

Am I

You No Longer

Have My Heart

You No Longer

Have My Love

Once Was a Mortal

A Warrior Of Old

With A Heart Of Love

Held For You

Now the Heart Is Old

The Love Within

Grown Cold

With Every Breath

There Was A Song

Within My Heart

And Words Of Love

Upon My Lips

My Kiss I Keep

For Memories Alone

Once Was Mine

And Yet Again

Our Night

Has Just Begun

Our Love Is New

And Oh So True

My Fickle Heart

Of Love

Heed Not the Words

Hear Not the Words

I Love You

Words My Soul Does Crave

Your Smile Is Heaven

To Me

Your Voice As Angels Sing

The Sparkle

In Your Eyes

Speaks Of Love

Born Unto Different Times

Yet Once Within My Heart

I Was Yours

And You Were Mine

I Give My Heart Again

In Memories And Dreams

My Love Is Yours

Alas Nothing But Memories

Through An Old Mans Eyes

Nothing But Dreams

To Recall

Ramblings Of An Old Mans Mind

 
13 Comments

Posted by on September 20, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Princess Of The Waves


Born Within The Heart

Of The Depths Of Oceans

Of Many Lands

Delivered Up To The Earth

By Waves

Of Stormy Seas

Her Music

The Sound Of Angry Waves

Crashing

Upon Earths Shores

I Watched

That Dismal Night

Again I Stand

On Earths Shores

Waiting For The Princess

Of The Waves

My Mermaid

From The Deep

Oh How I Yearn

With My Lovesick Heart

The Taste

Of Your Salted Kiss

Upon My Lips

Burning With Passions

And Hot Desires

My Soul Forever Tormented

And Inflamed

In Love

My Needs Unfulfilled

The Need To Feel

Your Heart

Held Unto My Breast

And Filled

With The Deepest Love

To Once Again

Lock Our Hearts

Within The Warm Embrace

Of Each Other’s Arms

And Know

Within Our Hearts

Of Love

We Are Two

Yet We Are One

For Eternity I Stand

The Lonely Vigil

On The Sands

While All The Stars

Begin To Fall

The Moon

To Close Her Eyes

And Fade

There Is No Sun

It Began To Die

There Is No Paradise

Of Love

For Eternity I Stand

The Lonely Vigil

On The Sands

With Darkness All Around

The Only Sound

Your Music

The Angry Waves

Crashing Upon

Earths Rough Shores

I Await The Day

When Stars Once More

Will Fill The Skies

The Moon To Once Again

Begin To Smile

And The Sun Will Shine

Upon My Soul

And From The Waters

Of Calmer Seas

The Waves Will Deliver

You Up To Me

And So For Now

Through Eternity

I Stand

And Await The Day

You Take My Hand

 
14 Comments

Posted by on September 15, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Duelling Hearts of Love


Welcome To My World

 photo 1z1cumppo_zps5a7245ab.png

I would like to re-post this poem/story that I wrote many years ago, apologies to my good friends who have followed me from the My Space days through to Word-press, they have heard this story that I tend to post each year.

This poem actually took me about 12 hours to write in my mind, but actually took 20 minutes to pen in the computer. I have incorporated Ravels Bolero as a musical background, primarily as the music and the words are befitting my mindset at the time, hurt, loneliness and anguish

Wishing you all much love and happiness

Aussie Ian aka Aussie Emu

https://aussieian2010.wordpress.com/

http://aussieemu.wordpress.com/

Before The Suns Were Born and the Heavens Had No Place

In Distant Lands And Faraway Times in Fogs and Mists of Purple Haze Destiny Foretold Of A Love So True In Tender Childhood Happiness We Laughed and Played

Among The Stars Oh How…

View original post 460 more words

 
25 Comments

Posted by on September 2, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

A Dance Of Tease


I Was Lost

That Night

So Long Ago

You Danced For Me

And Me Alone

And In The Sway

Of Your Girlish Hips

You Teased My Heart

And Tormented

My Aching Lips

And

Behind Your Veils

I See

Your Tantalising

Deep Dark Eyes

Beckoning

With Girlish Allure

Yet You Sway

And Turn From Me

Into The Arms

Of Another

I Write My Words

From Within My Heart

And Yet You

My Darling

Play And Tease

With All My Emotions

A Painter Paints

In Colours Bold

And You

My Darling

Dance In Colours Gold

From Another Land

Another Time

You Dance For Me

To Music

With No Rhyme

And When The Dance

Of Dreams Is Done

You Sway

Into My Arms Of Love

Together

We Put Words To Rhyme

We Make The Music

And Dance As One

For You My Love

Are Eternally

Mine

 
14 Comments

Posted by on August 29, 2016 in Uncategorized

 
 
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