Bedelia’s Quandary: Boundary Lines

Prompt:  Line

Bedelia wasn’t tremendously surprised when Father James phoned to ask how she’d enjoyed the Meet ‘n Greet—somewhat guarded, she described it as “nice”, and thanked him politely for inviting her.

But her ribs began tightening against her lungs when he admitted it was his brother, particularly, whom he’d wanted her to meet…and then asked, as though he were a lonely hearts facilitator, what she’d thought of Finn.

Choosing her words carefully, she acknowledged that he seemed a pleasant gentleman, courtly even…(which turned out to be not cautious wording at all).

Father James jumped on her assessment with barely concealed glee, telling her Finn was a widower of many years…alone, like herself…and that he’d expressed interest in seeing her again.

Oh, Lord, Bedelia thought, feeling like she’d stepped into a bucket of ice water—she wasn’t a “maybe” sort of person, had always found adherence to clear “yea” or “nays” safer; her silence lengthened while she scrambled for a response which was less than a hardmarked boundary line that shouted, “Hazards Ahead, No Crossing!”

And thus, Divine intervention favored her:  Father James abruptly ended the conversation, having just then received a note regarding a parish emergency…he promised to get back to her soon.

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations,  2020 ~ All rights reserved.

A Bizarre Poem

Note:  in case you wonder, no substances were consumed in the creation of this poem😉

Trapped in maze I’ve

Crafted by hand saw

During pandemic scare

Armed with only selfchatter

Unfinished thoughts

Dangling ideas, half-phrases

Ragged ponders, odd musings

I crawl through mind’s wreck

Not daring to look back

(After what happened

To Lot’s wife)…

Perhaps this is vague

Last land where

Opportunity is stashed

Quandary:  should I

Seek, descend rabbit

Hole—or search for

Lantern at end of

Proverbial tunnel?

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Love Letter ‘Mid Corona

I’m linking to Punam’s love poem, in gratitude for her constant encouragement…Love you, sister afar♥


She thought he was dead

Or had forgotten her

Then his letter came

Began with, “did we

Read ‘Love In the

Time of Cholera’


As though interjecting

Thought midst a

Rolling conversation…

He wondered if she was well

If she’d married, had children.

Sounding shyly hopeful, he

Doubted she still had feelings

For him, said his heart had

Not emptied itself of her…

He remembered everything

About her from that last day

How trim she’d looked

In the straight lines of

Her stylish floral dress

Her dark hair which

Mimicked swaying palms

In perfumed breeze

And her eyes, full of pain

Fear, longing, disbelief

Perhaps regret having

Traveled to see him, wishful

Eyes black-lashed wells

Deep with anguish he’d

Not asked, nor

Discerned, the reason for

And how she’d trembled

Beneath tropical sun…

He acknowledged lingering

Ache that he’d let her leave

Asked if she had any desire

To write him again.

It must be a hoax, she

Thought, reading to the end

Yet she recognized his

Same bold-stroke signature

She’d clutched to her

Breast, decades ago…

How could he be alive, he’d

Been much older than she

It was too much to hope

In this panic, Corona’s

Rushing pandemic

That they might share

Second opportunity

For love’s dreams

With no possibility

Of circumventing

Barriers, quarantine.

Which would hurt more—

To ignore his request, or

Spill her heart for him

Again with pen, palsied

Hand’s anxious lines…and

Not see, touch, well-favored

Face memory ne’er discarded?

But surely Time had replaced

It with a stranger’s

Winter ghost…

Quandary quickened her pulse.

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.