Scarlet, Frankly My Dear. . .

Scarlet at the bottom of the stair
evening shadows
creep from where such things hide in the light of day

she says “Who will take care of me now . . .
Help me with my aching heart . . .?”

And the ghost of his broken heartbeat
echo of his soul death
just stands there


she says
“But he said he loves me and love can not die . . .”

the ghost would laugh
if it could

she says
“After all that he said . . .
How can he just say no?

the ghost whispers . . .
a sound so quiet
“If a man’s love dies
the man’s soul dies
And a man with no soul
is capable of anything . . .”

she must not have heard . . .
she says
“He’ll be back, he needs me”

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

4 thoughts on “Scarlet, Frankly My Dear. . .”

  1. I’m going to be honest here. As girl children of the deep South we read Gone With the Wind in the eighth grade almost 70 years ago. We wanted to be Scarlett and have a 17 ” waist. The Scarlett we knew so well, who at the end of the book knelt in the dirt of a cotton field raising her fist to the heavens and vowing “I’ll never be hungry again”, would never have let Rhett’s departure reduce her to neediness.

    Liked by 1 person

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