The following was written and submited to a competition in Bristol, in 2005, on the theme of "passing of time."  Not successful in the competition so not read out at the performance of winning entries at one of the Bristol theatres - so long ago I've forgotten which!!  Other than the judging panel, no-one else has ever seen this, so now it's a case of "judge for yourselves!"  And, maybe tell me what you think!!

Waiting at five and twenty o five

Waiting at five and twenty o five

Almost forty-five years inbetween.

Something of a riddle,

Also a life flashing by.

*************************

 I remember waiting at age five

At the bay window of

Our South London house.

Oddly, I probably started at

Something approaching five.

It was Christmas Eve, 1961,

The snow had started to fall.

After work, my Aunt and Uncle

Were wending their way to stay.

Magical, snow on Christmas Eve,

A five year old, excited

Santa was on the way.

Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight,

As coal in the fire grate glowed.

I remember it now,

The room felt cosy and warm.

Whilst, hidden behind heavy curtains,

My breath turned to ice on the pane.

Winceyette ‘jamas, thick woolly

Gown and furry lined slippers to boot.

Still I remember my icy cocoon.

Twixt cold glass and soft curtain,

Looking out on the snowy road.

Come sit near the fire

My mother said, with my father adding,

They’ll be ages yet

With this snow laying thick on the ground.

But I wanted to see them arrive,

Be first with the news

Shout out, they’re here,

Dash into the icy hall

And embrace my aunt’s furry collar

The waiting went on and on

Still they didn’t arrive.

Traffic must be bad my father said

Come warm by the fire mum urged.

No, one thing I had was resolve

I would see this through to the end.

Whatever time they arrived

Wide-awake I would be

By the frosty glass.

Then came the doubts

Time dragged its feet,

My stomach an empty feeling

And my eyelids grew heavy with time.

The battle really began

Excitement versus exhaustion.

Bedtime was looming,

Stocking hung by the chimney

Waiting for Santa to call.

At least an hour had passed,

Seeming more like a week

To this wee small lad

Who still through the window peered.

The weather made few venture out,

Our road was short and

Went nowhere in particular.

Although, one or two cars turned in,

Flutter, but false alarms.

The ache in the stomach increased

The legs started to numb,

Unmoving and cold they became,

Unknown for an active boy.

Another half hour was gone

Surely soon they must come.

I longed for my bed,

Warm patch by the bottle,

Until cold from the covers thrown.

Just in the nick of time

As hands held up the head

A car turned in, it was them,

Off to the door I rushed.

Too short to reach the handle

Relied on my brother instead,

As the door was opened

In blew the snow and the cold,

But was warmed by the embrace.

Quick five-year-old gabble, worse

As tiredness kicked in.

Kisses all round and

Up the wooden hill to bed.

But the waiting was just beginning

Tiredness a thing of the past,

I lay in the cold crisp sheets

Couldn’t get him out of my head

As for the sleigh bells I listened!

*************************

Forty-five years have passed.

Thirteen since my daughter was five.

Now we wait after ninety long days

For her from travels to return.

Near three months before,

With stinging eyes,

We waited for her to disappear,

Through a door simply marked

De … par … tures.

Suddenly she seemed very young,

School barely over and

Adventures in some far off land,

Beckoning strong.

We were early, time to wait

‘Till the plane would take her away,

To ease the pain, she announced

Through that door, she would go

And wait in the vacuum beyond.

Last hugs and kisses, stinging increased,

Pleads to be careful,

And with a quick backward glance

She was gone.

The waiting was almost over,

Careful she told us she’d been.

But when back in our midst,

We were soon to find out

It was best, at the time, not to know! 

  

Early, we paced the bustling arrival hall,

Counting the minutes down.

Only to see on the monitor,

Her flight was delayed by an hour.

Never, well perhaps only when five,

Had time taken so long to pass.

The clock hands hardly turning,

The digital clock,

It seemed stuck!

It struck me as strange,

With so many delays

Not a seat was to be seen,

Despite people waiting around.

On her departure she’d said

Never once had she be met

At an airport by a sign bearing her name

So with pen and paper

Hasty arrangements were made.

It helped a little

To pass the time, which still

Dragged heavy and slow

For once wishing our life away!

Seeing a significant delay

A coffee was ordered,

To slowly sip and wait to cool

To pass the time of day.

But when it arrived it was cold!

Lukewarm to say the least

So down it went in a jiffy.

All too soon over and back

On the prowl we returned.

That dull ache in the stomach returned

As the progress we checked

On the monitor screen,

Which simply announced in bold print

Flight delayed.

The legs they started to numb

The terminal floor seemed so hard

As first we paced up, then we paced down,

Again and again and again.

We went out to view the sky

To look out for the plane

As it came down

With a cargo so precious

But nothing was seen.

Time waits for no one

The saying goes.  However,

On this particular day

It seemed to have forgotten the rules.

 

Suddenly, the screen was a flicker

Our hearts aflutter

The message changed

Reading as clear as day

Flight landed, taxiing..

Nearly there, lined up with gangway,

Doors open, disembarked,

Waiting by the everlasting luggage conveyor,

Playing through in our minds.

Suddenly, those with only hand luggage

Started to come through,

Glancing at name cards, looking for friends

But peering at labels revealed

Wrong flight, landed earlier!

A trickle became a flow

Passengers laden with luggage

Started to come through.

The moment was here.

But several long minutes went by

Luggage on each trolley

Scrutinized as it appeared

For any sign of

Identity of the person behind.

When it came it was clearly her bag

But pushed by somebody else.

No it was her, but with hair in dreadlocks

At first I wasn’t sure!

Long embraces ensued

Back in our arms again,

Stinging eyes once more, then another onslaught

Our ears, as adventure after adventure

Poured out for several days!

******************

Twenty O five, 2005,

Some year it had turned out to be.

Once more it proved that old adage:

………

Things come to those that wait!