The war was over and railway stations in London were flooded with soldiers: the walking wounded, shell shocked and confused. After years in the trenches, it was commonplace to see young men dazzled by gas lights or cringing at a blast of steam from a train.
I have waited every day, desperate to catch a glimpse of Arthur. We were betrothed in 1914, before he enlisted and then vanished from my life, except for a letter or two, in which he promised to return to me.
It seems the horror of war hasn’t really ended; it haunts every young man who steps or is lifted from a train. It all belies our existence. We wait and are still denied the love of those who left us behind, even when they have returned.
Then I spot him in the crowd – only he cannot see me.
Kim M. Russell, 16th March 2026
This Monday, Merril was our host at the dVerse Poets Pub for Prosery, when we take a given line of poetry around which to write a short prose piece of up to 144 words, not including the title. We must not alter the words, change the word order, or insert words into the line. However, we may change the punctuation.
Merril said that, as she wrote her prompt, there was a ‘lull in winter, a taste of spring, almost summer’ which led her to the poem ‘Winter-Lull’ by D.H. Lawrence, one of my favourite writers:
“It all belies
Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.”
writing in north norfolk 