5 July 2012
@sjw #household
"They're fabulous, darling, a work of art, I can see that they came straight from your heart. But there's no time to lose, let's get them on the rail, How exciting to have your curtains for sale!"
So on sale they went, these curtains of beauty, The final result of an artistic duty. A grand design with a price to match, To higher society they did attach.
Into the shop strode a woman with poise, She made a small cough, such a tiny noise. The assistant slid over with sebaceous ease: "The curtains," she said, "please."
Whisky in hand, he admired his prize. His assistant watched nervously, wide-open eyes. The man smiled, sat down, met her eyes gleaming blue, "Yes," he drawled, "these will do."
Later that night, when the man was asleep, Into the lounge the assistant did creep. In her manicured hands she held a knife, About to do something that would change her life.
"Get out, get out! I hate you, you wench!" Screamed the man, as the curtains he clenched. "These are useless to me!" he began to vent, Then threw them out onto the pavement.
A young boy skipped happily down the street, Scuffed red trainers on his feet. The pile of material made him stop, And he gasped loudly when the curtain did drop.
The assistant smiled weakly, brushed back her hair, Uncertain of how long she had been sat there. "Please," she begged, "I need to eat." But the young boy ran off down the street.
Collapsing in tears, absolute grief, The woman waited for death's relief. The world had been hers to make it an offer, Now she had only coppers in her coffer.
Footsteps approaching attracted her ears, She saw shiny shoes, the sum of her fears. Then the curtain was raised, in flooded light, She cowered and whimpered in her fright.
A man stood there, but it was not him. This man was smiling, he was not grim. His eyes scanned the curtain, filled with joy, He looked down to his right, and said "Good boy."
As he held aloft his artistic work, The man had a feeling he could not shirk. What had happened to these curtains of beauty? And more importantly, who is she?
The man reached down with one hand, Pulled her back onto society's dry land. He ditched the curtain and they walked away, The happy end to a sorry play.
Curtains of Beauty • Opuss № I