Baslilique de Sainte-Anne-d'Auray
I wonder if the bells still soundacross the square, shaking the windows
of the Boule D'Or
where langoustine marinaded
and served in a sauce sublime
as yours and mine,
our hands entwined
waiting for that pounding call
that summons us from under
warm soft covers and
hastens footsteps to a
marble bath.
Mingling with the tourists
buying artifacts and candles
we light a fire
and walk to find a bench
the brass plaque gleaming
we'll shine for each other
in early spring sunshine,
tonight will be moules
succulent, their onyx shells
gleaming, we'll kiss at
a suitable time, while
beckoning bells summon
and all of our devils
are sated in the soft warm light.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2021-03-29 at 07:47
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