Meeting at a Quiet Place, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Meeting at a Quiet PlaceRoundhay Lake, John Atkinson Grimshaw (1877)

Meeting at a Quiet Place

This evening there are no leaves on the trees
The warmth of spring winds has yet to arrive
Heavy damp fog is slowing rolling in
Dimming even more the sallow moonlight
No on-coming carts to toss any light
So why are they here on this ghoulish night
For spies this could be an ideal place
Or place of tryst where they can hide their face

In their time they quietly lingered long
Far too long to be just exchanging notes
There’s another clear possibility
A love that earlier started to bloom
But love is blind and can lead to one’s doom
One is exploited by a trusted love
Preying on an open heart is cruel
Even worse is to use it as a tool