She was a Phantom of Delight
She was a Phantom of Delight,
When first she gleamed upon my sight
A lovely apparition sent
To be a moments ornament
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair
Like Twilight's too her dusky hair
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and cheerful dawn
A dancing shape, an image gay
To haunt, to startle and waylay
I saw her upon nearer view
A spirit yet a woman too!
Her household motions light and free
And steps of virgin liberty
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature daily food
For transient sorrow, simple wiles
Praise Blame Love kisses tears and smiles
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine
A being breathing thoughtful breath
A traveller between life and death
A reason firm, the temperate will
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill
A perfect woman, nobly plann'd
to warn, comfort and command
And yet a spirit still and bright
With something of an angel light
William Wordsworth.
Irene leaned over, throwing the book aside. Her lips touched mine sending electricity through my veins. I kissed back, leaning into her with need and hunger. She smiled and pulled away.
"No," I moaned.
"Sherlock," Irene whined mocking me.
I pouted. "If we're not going to do anything, then can I please finish my homework?"
"Bah, homework," Irene said. "I can think of a hundred other things we can do." She leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Please."
"Irene," I said stubbornly.
She sighed and picked up the book. "William Wordsworth," She said.
"Give it to me." I said. She held it above my head playfully, sitting on my lap. "Irene, please. Otherwise I'll fail the course."
Irene looked at me with some disdain. "Who cares?" She said.
"What?" I blinked.
Irene sighed angrily getting up from my lap. "It's the same old story." She said. "I mean, grow up, go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, get another job, get a TV, watch your kids grow up in front of the telly, watch them grow up into this world then die alone and miserable in a home. Why would anyone want to do that? And on top of the misery of life, the predictable moments and all that, we have to pay to get ourselves through this life. Everything comes at a price. Even our happiness. I mean, what's natural anymore? How can we be expected to find happiness through the predictable crap that is bound to be flung our way? The only people who can be truly happy are the ones that have broken free from this system, this stupid system where we are trapped in this world. A system that is of our own making. Now why on earth would you want to do that? I thought your mind was free enough to realise that."
She stared at me.
"Wow," I said. "I think someone has been reading Irvine Welsh,"
"He has a lot of good ideas about him," Irene said.
"I know." I said. "I just never thought that you would base his life around him,"
"It's either that or Gerard Kelly," She replied.
I laughed and kissed her. "Please give me my book back."
"I don't want to." She replied.
"Please?"
"Um... No."
"Irene." I said.
"Erm... No." She said. She began wandering around the caravan. I sighed and followed her.
"Please?" I tried snatching it from her. She ran into her room. I followed her. We landed on the bed laughing hysterically. She rolled over and kissed my knuckles.
"I love these hands." She said. "Can I keep them?"
"Sure," I said. "Have them, I won them in a poker game."