For the prompt "Old Movies" at Readwritepoem
The movie, for those of those not familiar with it, is Dr Zhivago - click on the link for a plot summary.
Snow never feels cold
on the big screen in the warm,
darkened theatre. Its whiteness
dazzles. He is so handsome,
the dashing young doctor.
Even through the gunshots, deaths,
partings, I want to believe in happy endings
somewhere, my love
- grasp at small servings of hope.
Fields of Russian corn
golden in the sunshine,
the brightness my raincoat
as I emerge into grey, drizzly twilight
to catch the bus home. Dinner,
piano practice, my mind still filled
with the image of the young doctor,
his brother’s last question –
Do you play the balalaika?