Cobbles

The cobbles are ringing in Garden City
The merchants are calling and in
The square the market sounds out
Beneath the cathedral spire.

Up on her balcony, Madame sprinkles
Flower and fruit in pots,
The painted terracotta abloom,
Ankles overspilling shoes,
Just a little nip, here and there.

She can smell the plat du jour
It makes her hungry,
She takes a nibble,
Pats the coif and watches Mimi
Curl with contented purr.

Ah Garden City at its best
In late morning, spring sunshine,
Her balcony a trap of warmth
She watches would be Mimosa's
Swing in long abandonment

And she recalls when she was young,
And dancing shoes were meant to fit
And flit around those ballroom floors,
Ah, she does recall that certain look,
Happiness she settles with the same
Chapter of the story in her book.

A little spot, to fill that space
Where biscuits pur buerre
Leave crumbles for the birds
To flitter down, while gently
She'll snooze, her pepper snores
An accompaniment
To love still singing,
Dancing out on cobbles bright.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 642 times
Written on 2014-01-29 at 19:30

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shells
This trips across the page with such lightness, you set the scene so beautifully in your opening stanza, I was there and I would like to stay a while.
2014-01-31



Such a beautiful picture you've managed to paint with Madam on the balcony. A slice of life in technicolor.
~Ashe
2014-01-30


NicholasG
Tantalizing picture you paint... I certainly can relate to Madame's backward glance, but also I envy the blooms!
You paint with a palette that appeals to us snow bound northerners! Thank you.
xox
2014-01-29



Bright and delightful, a vivid splash of life for the senses.
2014-01-29