The old man at the foot of the hill asked the boy
“where are you going to,boy!!?”
He answered with a cocky smile
“to fetch a pail of water”
For sarcasm was his trademark…
His only weapon. He used it well
And she loved him for it…amongst other things.
Up the hill they went,
With her dripping wet,
‘tween her legs was a well
Hand in hand, up they went.
For want of a pail of water…
He took her a little bit further
Further than she anticipated
For she was still but a fair maiden
“Are you sure it’s saf..”
His kiss interrupted her speech
And left her wanting…
He was all she saw
Wanton creatures,they both were.
Lost in each other,
Without a care..
The time was already half past 5,
And this was the only time
The only time they could call each other..”mine”
“To fetch a pail of water”That’s what he said.
“To fetch a pail of water”
They slipped and fell.
He fell down and broke his crown
She came tumbling
On and on she tumbled
Till finally she stopped…
Unmoving..at death’s door..humbled
“For want of a pail of water”
He stood up
Ran home with a bloody head
And a bloodied heart
As fast as a writers pen to a story’s end
He laid on his bed
Vinegar in one hand
A rolled brown paper in the other
Empty bottles on the floor
The ache in his head couldn’t compare to the one in his chest.
A reminder that she,Jill,had died and