Tallie Pascoe
Westminster
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Marianne

She ran through the village
Screaming and shouting
But nobody heard her
And nobody cared.
The sky was dark
And the sinister darts
Of thunder and lightning
Did as they dared.

The rain came down like
Bullets and arrows,
And the dull light flickered
On the old Manor Gate.
The rain did not near her
And the wind seemed to fear her
As she ran, denying,
Refusing her fate.

Aye, as a girl, the storm
Would have scared her
And she would have cried
The whole night long.
Again the tears flowed
As she ran up the road
And in her mind she heard
An aching sweet song.

You cannot go back Marianne,
Said the voice,
You can trry and try
Forever and on.
You can try to fake
Your fall in the lake,
But the angels have borne you,
marianne, you are gone.

Shaking her head
To ignore the voice,
She stumbled round
To the bay window wide
And in the light of the evening
Her mother was grieving
And her father, forlorn,
Cried and cried.

And there her beau
Leant against the wall
And she saw storms swirl
In his dark eyes.
He should have dived
To save her life
His cowardice hd led
To her demise.

She raised her hand
To touch his back
But it passed through him
As though he were air.
She screamed at the man
Who had ran and ran
Away from her drowning,
His own life, his one care.

So she turned away
From her sweet fiance
Who she swore to hate
As much she could hate
She passed through the wall
Into the great marble hall
And felt no heat
From the fire in the grate.

Looking into
The crystal bound mirror,
No self-reflection did she see.
Only the maid,
With her long blonde braid
Walking the hallway
There seemed to be.

The portrait of her
That hung in the parlour
She hated now more
Than she ever had done.
But though she stamped at th floor
And hit at the door,
Of sound or echo
There was none.

Siilent as
The ghost she was,
She picked up her skirts
Amd walked down the track.
Though the girl wondered
And long the shade pondered
She knew she would never,
Never go back.

Life was a thing
That had left her too short
And she wanders the moors
From that day to this.
Through the years long
She has sung her song,
Tragic in its loveliness.

Oh sweet Marianne
That wanders the moors
To the last of infinity
Forever and on.
The rain does not near her
And the wind seems to fear her,
The angels have borne you,
Marianne, you are gone.
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