Waiting For Her Knock Poem by Ernestine Northover

He leaned across and pulled the window closed,
What future would he have now, he supposed
If what he so desired could all come true,
He would no longer be downcast and blue,
But she was not even near, nowhere in sight,
The thought that she, with luck, perhaps just might
Keep to her word, had now become remote.
A tight restriction welled up in his throat.
She'd said she would arrive at two o'clock,
How nerve wracking this waiting for her knock,
But looking at the time, it now was five,
No good to still keep faith and hope alive.
It was obvious, she didn't want to know,
To his heart and pride, it was a vicious blow.
A tap upon the door, could that be her,
His whole dispirited being began to stir,
'Do you want to buy my pegs', the Gypsy said,
But he had fled!

© Ernestine Northover