Thinking of you Frances

By Ray Schaufeld

Fri, 07 Mar 2014
  • 3101 reads
10 comments
 
We made friends very easily
When we were only four
For months the house stood empty
Then your family moved next door
We bathed our dolls in saucepans
Blew dandelion clocks outside
And when we saw Mary Ainslie and her big dog Rex
We would run round the corner and hide.
Life was easy then for me and Frances.
 
When we reached the age of twelve
With very little fuss
I walked round the corner to my new school
Frances took the bus
We got to know new people
Got in with separate crowds
And often we would run into one another
In the street, the shop, the swingpark
And then I would go to yours
And we sat giggling out loud on your bed
And we fancied all the popstars on your wall
Still good friends then Frances and myself.
 
Years passed then I was up in court
And much to my surprise
Frances faced in front of me
I saw her big brown eyes.
Frances was only the advocate's clerk
She could not do anything to help me
But the fact that Frances was here
With her neat new haircut
Wearing her smart navy skirt and blouse and matching shoes
Moving between myself and the law
That helped.
 
I can't remember which year it was
When Frances moved away
Did she go to uni to study law
Was she straight or gay?
Did she move to Edinburgh
Did she move to England?
I think someone told me that Frances had got married
Or maybe someone told Frances that I had got married
Sometimes messages get scrambled in the air
And still I think of you
When I
Do.
 
And now I've turned sixty
My life's spun up and down
For the last eventeen years I've been in Devon
Living in a little seaside town.
And I have no idea where you are, Frances
Or if you know this,
It is Women's Day today, my dear
And sometimes I feel I am on a train.
Not back to Bridge of Allan
Not a train of thought
Simply moving
And knowing
 
I want you.
 
 
 
 
Certificate PG
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

A poem full of wishful yearning, Elsie, for a return to a cherished friendship, in search of lost time - À la recherche du temps perdu. Reminiscenses that speak of a strong bond and even love.

A good one, I liked it. Luigi

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Luigi, thanks for your kind words. i will be truthful here the poem is an experience patchwork not pure biography. The two factual bits are Mary and her dog(a neighbour when i was 30 who owned a massive very exuberant German shepherd) and the 'up in court'! Back in 1979 I was a witness in a court case. i felt this strange sense of 'twin-ness' with the clerk; a sense that as two young women of around the same age we were two of a kind; almost interchangeable players on the legal chessboard.     Elsie

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Your comment about realising an empathy and similarity with someone in so different a position to yourself is interesting there. We suddenly realise that 'that person over there' is as real a person as me, with a background.
Even if fictional, your poem brings to thought the memories we all have of people we have lost touch with and wonder what happened after …
I wonder if the younger generation are going to keep up with all their acquaintanes old and new with their use of Facebook etc.  Somehow I feel it could take over keeping up constantly but superficially with so many!?
Interesting thoughts, as usual. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Rhiannon, many thanks for reading and commenting. Yes, our generation often wonders where our former friends and neighbours are and what they are up to. Sometimes Facebook works. I have eight facebook friends, i do not wish to add friends or relatives of my friends, it has to be people I know. The younger generation, who can guess ahead? Perhaps we are moving towards an image and broadcast and performance culture where each and every one of us will have our 15 minutes of fame every day, strutting our stuff on youtube!                            Elsie
 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Elsie

I loved your poem, and your story of how close childhood friends grow apart, but something lingers even without direct communication.

 

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Thanks Jean,

the street my family moved to shortly before my sister was born, was as old as me, just four. Before that Barn Hill was farmland. All the families had children much the same age and when young we all played on the pavements as our street, East Hill had little traffic. Sometimes we went into one another's houses and gardens.

Bad confession here Jean, my parents still live there and my mother keeps up with the local goss. I have little interest into learning what anyone my age from there is now doing though I hope the few remaining elderly folks of my parent's age remain alive and as well as can be for longer. However there are many people who I have met since childhood who I have lost contact with whose whereabouts I would love to know and who I wish the very  best .     Elsie

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Some stirring thoughts here Elsie...I too wonder what happened to friends I've know from the past,  that seem to drift into the oblivion...never to be seen again.

In fact you've inspired me with this piece and given me an idea for a story of my own.

Thanks for sharing this.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Write your story Jenny. I shall look forward to it!              Elsie

Submitted by Denzella on

Hi Elsie,

I see from ;later post that you arre taking a break so you may not read thhis.  I found this poem very interesting and thought provoking and much enjoyed reading it  Meds not   working os will stp now.

MOya.

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Denzella thanks for reading both my pieces. I'll be back. Hope things go well for you  .  All the best   Elsie