Schism
We met in a first-night cinema queue,Two singles feeling awkward and blue,
We chatted in the gathering dark,
Became a couple entering Cupid's Ark,
I confessed that I didn't have much,
So you kindly agreed to go 'Dutch',
And we sat together in the back row,
Whispering romance as the lights dimmed low,
And we stared wide-eyed on our chance blind date,
Not at the film but at the promise of our fate,
And so it was to be, at least for that summer,
I was your drum, you were my drummer,
And we beat out a love song for that season,
Until we lost our music to heretical reason,
One day you failed to appear as planned,
I thought that Fate had played a hand,
I went to your home to seek you out,
Knocked at your door but you were not about,
Your father opened that sad threshold
And told me there was nothing to behold,
Not even a last glimpse of radiant you,
I was a single again feeling awkward and blue,
I asked him why I couldn't see you again
And he said with a cold eye, 'Son, you must refrain,
For she is Roman Catholic and you are C. of E.',
And with that he closed the door on me.
As I cried all the way back to my own home,
I cursed the split between England and Rome,
And what made my blood course hot and cold
Was the irony that the film we watched was
'The Greatest Story Ever Told'.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
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Written on 2016-06-12 at 16:57
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