Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.15.25.60
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
(Narrative)


So it was I sat across from this powerful Egyptian who had come to see me. He had been on the '25 expedition with my Mother and Father. That had almost been one year ago. 

His dark eyes scrutinized me as the hand that held the whiskey glass to his lips did shake. To see such a man shaking so was very sad indeed. He placed the glass on the table and he sighed. 

"I alone escaped the corridor," he said slowly as I sat back to listen to the story I had so wanted to hear.

"My name is Ali Hassan and I was one of the worst diggers that year of '25........" 

This was so, Ali Hassan was more of a danger than anything else. Robert Henderson, Professor Robert Henderson that is, the leader of the expedition, he had seen enough. 

His imperious tones did fill the Valley as he told Ali to go and dig somewhere else on his own. With slumped shoulders, Ali did leave the large pit where many had been digging and he walked to the mouth of the valley.

The Professor did feel for this powerful man, to see him walk away as he did. The dig had to come first and this was a disaster of a dig. He would be going back to England empty-handed. This could have been the reason why the Professor had snapped.......... 

"I was crestfallen that your father would send me from the dig. My heart was heavy as I started to dig my own solitary hole. What could be found at the mouth of the valley of the kings? Nothing. I was the laughing stock of other men, lesser men.........."

I nodded to the Egyptian. His story did go on.

The sun did beat down upon my back, the perspiration did weep from me, still, I did dig. I had never dug like this before. I was like a man possessed. I stopped to wipe the perspiration from my eyes. As I looked down a shadow fell over me. The Professor's good lady was holding an umbrella over me. 

I smiled at this good lady as she jumped into the hole with a spade. This beautiful flower was going to dig with me. I would be in such trouble if the Professor did see this. I didn't care, the good lady didn't care. We started to dig, the hole becoming larger and larger. 

This dark haired blossom of English beauty did dig spade for spade with me. This is something unseen, this does not happen. This was a man's domain. I waited to hear the profanity from the Professor, then clunk, as one, our spades hit something solid. 

 "Robert, Robert, come quickly," your English rose of a Mother did cry."

To Be Continued..........

09/01/2019.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required