Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Reginald Demp. That’s what it says on his birth certificate. He doesn’t mind the surname. Even though it’s odd, They didn’t take the mick out of it at school, But they didn’t hold back on Reginald, Reggie and Reg! *** The take-away from school Was a couple of ‘O’ Levels and a bundle of odd memories. But now he’s got himself a job on a building site, a new office block, A short bike ride from home. The new boy on the site, new boots, new overalls, … and a new name, ‘The Rookie’, Courtesy of Bob the foreman. Most people would run a mile from such a name, But Rookie likes it. Reginald, Reggie and Reg are no more. He has a new identity. *** The next day, Bob is showing him the ropes. Very basic. No knots. They walk across the compound. Bob introduces him to the lift, A metal cage attached to the side of the new building. Bob pulls back the gate, they step in, the gate is closed, protesting noisily. A button is pushed and the ground drops away!

  Hidden out of sight It’s just a tattered sketchpad I turn the pages.   Faded over time The words barely visible Descriptions unclear.   Who are these people? Perhaps family members Or maybe just friends.   I stare, she stares back From the last and final page. Watching and waiting.   Her quiet beauty Could never be disputed Though troubled and sad.   “Who are you?” I ask “What secrets can you tell me?” Moments you’ve treasured.”   She cannot answer Her stories remain untold The memories trapped.   I touch her pale face Dark eyes now dancing with life Their magic shines through.   My hands are shaking Yet she watches undeterred It slips from my grasp.   I know I must leave Yet she beckons me closer. I feel her presence.   I cannot explain It’s just a tattered sketchpad Old and forgotten. " Old Notebook " by  Eric__I_E  is licensed under  CC BY 2.0 .