REFLECTIONS.

[dadio]

Ava puts the book down on her
Knees and reflects. Her life has
No happy endings in sight, no
Lover engages her body or mind,
No marriage prospects or children
On the horizon. Don’t get yourself
Stuck on the shelf, her mother had
Said, being an old maid’s no joke
Or ambition; find yourself an nice
Young man and settle down. She
Gives a frown; stirs in the chair.
Sniffs polish and tobacco smoke in
The air. Her father would indulge
In that pipe of his and in this study.
She muses on Larkstall, the man
Her mother introduced at the last
Coming out party. Her mother liked
Him, thought him just the job, well
Placed, well mannered, well connected,
And would, no doubt, had she been
Young and free, have taken him for
Herself and not burdened me, Ava
Says to herself, sensing the afternoon
Sun on her head through the window
Behind. But Larkstall was not her type
At all; she could never have imagined
Herself spreading her thighs for the likes
Of him saving being an old maid or no.
Browding was no better, just as stiff
And a pompous ass who thought all
Women would fall at his feet with the
Slightest gaze or word. She hears birds
Sing from the garden outside. She fingers
The book in her hand. The shelves are
Full of books, each one containing a
Different world, a different perspective.
She feels as if she’ll never love or live
Beyond this tiny world of books and rooms
And dull afternoons. She lifts the book
And reads again. The clouds darkened
Behind her with the coming of rain.