A KISS, A PROMISE KEPT

 We fell in love, Anne and I. It was a magical time of joyful happiness, of simple surprises, of dreams coming true.

Once in a while, we would play a word game, "Name the..." - as in name the capitals in Europe, rivers in the USA, etc. Going back and forth until one of us got stumped.

On our last night together, Anne told me she completed all the paper work for us to take a two week summer school class on the poetry of William Butler Yeats - at the University of North Carolina. We were great admirers of Yeats and his poetry.

Then she said, game time. She would quote a line from a Yeats poem, then I would have to quote a line from the same poem.

Anne: "Brown penny, brown penny."                                                                                                Me: "I am looped in the loops of her hair."

Anne: "All things can tempt me."                                                                                                  Me: "One time it was a woman's face."  

Anne: "Shy one, shy one."                                                                                                          Me: "Shy one of my heart."  

Anne: "My dear, my dear, I know more than another."                                                              Me: "What makes your heart beat so."  

Anne: "Money is good."                                                                                                             Me: "And a girl might be better."

Then I said, my turn to go first - "I went out alone to sing a song or two."  Anne: "My fancy on a man and you know who." With a sly smile Anne continued, "What lively lad most pleasured me of all that with me lay?"

Looking surprised, shocked, I asked, would that be me?

And we laughed and laughed. Then I quoted Yeats again, "I am of Ireland, and the Holy Land of Ireland."

Anne continued, "And time runs on cried she, come out of charity, come dance with me in Ireland."  Then she looked at me, a serious look and declared, "Next June we're going to Ireland and you're going to dance with me in Ireland. And if you kiss me, it will be a promise that can't be broken."  I kissed her.

The next day Anne died - a suicide.

A few years later I'm in the Olde Bar in Donegal Ireland - drinking pints of Guinness. And my mind wanders back to that last night with Anne, the words we shared, our lives together, so full of promise.

And I was reminded of Yeats' poem, The Stolen Child. "Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild with a faery hand and hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."

Suddenly I feel Anne's presence, she is with me in the Olde Bar. I am holding her close, we are dancing in Ireland - we are dancing in Ireland. I kiss her, a promise kept.

Contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com