1549. Down on one knee

(The closing sentence for this story was suggested by Terry of ARANEUS1. If you want to join in the fun of suggesting a future closing sentence for these stories, click here for a peek as to what’s what.)

I’d put it off for long enough. Leonie-Lee was my life and light. We had been dating now for three years. It was time to propose marriage, but to be honest, what if she said “No”? The possibility of a “No” – no matter how improbable it was in reality – had always come in the way of proposing. I wish she’d taken advantage of that quirky thing (I believe it’s the case) and proposed to me herself last Leap Day.

I caught the number 12 tram. It stops almost outside my house. There’s no need to walk far except down the garden path. In fact, when it rains, I simply wait in my porch and when the number 12 tram approaches I dash out and board the tram raincoat-less and umbrella-less. Crossing the road can be a bother, but there’s a place for pedestrians to cross, although these days who can trust the road-raging drivers? Of course, I carry my coat and umbrella, because when I reach the tram stop where I alight I still have to walk a good half hour to arrive at Leonie-Lee’s house.

I had the engagement ring and everything. In fact I’ve been so excited about this decision that I haven’t slept for two days. Not the briefest forty winks.

When I got off the number 12 tram the sun was shining. The day couldn’t have been more pleasant if I’d planned it myself. I practically skipped my way to Leonie-Lee’s. This was to be the happiest day of my life thus far.

Anyway… that was a couple of hours ago. Leonie-Lee said… well… it doesn’t matter. Same as last time. Afterwards, I headed straight for home. As I stepped off the number 12 tram, dodging impatient traffic, it started to rain.

1494. Punting on the river

Fintan knew the time had come for him to propose marriage to Angela. What was holding him up? He wanted to propose creatively. He wanted it to be memorable. He wanted it to be both romantic and different.

He suggested to Angela that they hire a punt on the river. The river was deep and slow and picturesque. They would take a picnic lunch and pull over to the side, perhaps under a weeping willow. And then either before or after lunch, when all seemed most idyllic, he would propose. Of course, Fintan made a few trial runs in a hired punt secretly. He wanted to know how best to guide the boat, and best where to go.

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Birds sang. A fish jumped up out of the water just as their punt passed by. It was as if it was dancing for the joy of the occasion. A mother duck protected her batch of newly hatched ducklings. How wonderful! At one stage, quite by accident, some sad, winsome, romantic oboe music wafted from a manor beyond the expansive lawn on the river bank. This would be the moment, the perfect moment to propose.

Fintan went down on one knee. “Angela,” he said, “will you marry me?” Fintan’s change in posture unbalanced the punt. Angela didn’t even have time to say “Yes!” before the boat toppled over and they drowned.

1420. The proposal

Not every match is made in heaven, but this one was. Annabelle and Xavier had met at a table tennis competition in town. It had been organised by the Trinity Anglican Parish. It was when Annabelle had beaten (just the once) Xavier at ping pong that Xavier thought Annabelle worth looking at twice.

“How would you like to go out next Saturday?” asked Xavier. That was the beginning. The sun came out from the clouds and never left.

Today Annabelle was off to see Xavier. He had something to tell her; something very important; something very special. Annabelle knew it would be a marriage proposal. She would pretend to be surprised, but really… really… how could she not guess? She wasn’t born yesterday.

Annabelle took the shortcut to Xavier’s place: over a stile, through a cornfield, over another stile… The colours that day were ten times more vibrant. A flock of goldfinches were stealing corn. “You little thieves!” laughed Annabelle. She heard a skylark sing, way up in the sky. “It’s the wedding march!” laughed Annabelle.

And there he was! Xavier at the second stile! Down on one knee!

“Annabelle,” said Xavier, “will you marry me?”

“Oh yes!” said Annabelle. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and a second skylark joined the singing in the sky. The moon rose in the middle of the day. A briar rose near the stile burst into flower. A rooster crowed. A cherry tree scattered ripe and succulent fruit.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

(Post script: If you don’t like happy endings you should know by now not to read this blog.)

1033. That’s because

Your lips are as sweet as honey.
– That’s because I’ve been cooking dinner and tasting it to make sure it’s to your liking.

Your hands are soft and fragrant.
– That’s because I’ve been doing the laundry in the tub because your washing machine is broken.

Your hair is wild and natural and lovely.
– That’s because I’ve been up the hill out the back in the wind collecting firewood to warm the house.

Your body is lithe and perfect, like a model in an advertising centrefold of popular magazines.
– That’s because I spend hours digging your vegetable garden and mowing your lawns.

Your walk is as graceful as a gazelle.
– That’s because I walk your dog every day.

Your taste in clothes is impeccable.
– That’s because I buy the occasional thing with money earned from working a forty hour week.

You are the perfect woman. Marry me.
– I’m outta here.

Poem 17c: A modest proposal

(a pantoum, with seven footnotes to aid scholars) ⁽¹⁾

I know you’ll say no
No! No! The answer’s yes!
But can we give marriage a go?
I thought you’d never ask, I must confess.

No! No! The answer’s yes!
I went and bought a ring⁽²⁾ in case.
I thought you’d never ask, I must confess.
I didn’t want to lose face, Stace.⁽³⁾

I went and bought a ring⁽⁴⁾ in case.
I’ve already said I will
I didn’t want to lose face, Stace.⁽⁵⁾
You’re not listening to me, Bill.⁽⁶⁾

I’ve already said I will
I knew you didn’t love me
You’re not listening to me, Bill.⁽⁷⁾
You think you’re way above me.

I knew you didn’t love me
Now you’re pissing me off
You think you’re way above me.
Yeah right, I’m one of them highfalutin toffs.

Now you’re pissing me off
But can we give marriage a go?
Yeah right, I’m one of them highfalutin toffs.
I knew you’d say no.

(1) “A Modest Proposal” – Not to be confused with Jonathan Swift’s literary work with the same name
(2) An engagement ring
(3) Her name was Stacey; Stace for short. The shortening of her name implies that he knew her quite well
(4) Probably the same ring as in note 2
(5) This is the same person as in a couple of footnotes back
(6) His name was Bill
(7) This is the same person as in another footnote, not the footnote regarding Stacey but the one about Bill

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.