PoetBay.com, the poetry webpage where you can publish your poems and short stories

Your smidgeon

It occurs to me, that I have been in love and not in love
too many times, from the animate to the inanimate,
on walks through the parade gardens, watching life
an observer, leaning on the conservatoire walls
watching an old fool as a young a fool as I
they say the young are yet I tend to differ as age brings,
or so it seems to me, another kind of tomfoolery and indeed
I find myself fast gaining on the joker, my smoking days
in a velvet jacket, Havana cigar or a rainbow sobrani.
My Russian loving days, fur hat on in Moscow and how
the cold burnt my cheeks and the way he kissed the tip;

I was the hopscotch girl, marking out lines in dust,
boiling up water in a rusty can - I was your soupçon,
your pinch, just a smidgeon of a season in time.

The Paris cat, staying out all hours, jocular in the Jockey club
number 2 rue Rabelais, although in truth a miniscule
apartment just off the rue de Rivoli, where all the jewels
shine, soaked in gin to keep the sparkle, I was your
harlequin girl on the streets of Belfast, walks in
the Botannic gardens with Fabien diving into canals,
his webbed feet and black silky ears, he ate coal,
I was so cold, even in the heat wave, it was there
I fell in love twice over

Poetry by Elle