The Second Lost One...

Tonight I send my silence,
gift wrapped
in my grandma’s worn wooden box
As you sleep.
I remember
our search for
the Cinderella slippers
in the musty maze of New Market.


If I could paint
I would
break the curse
of an afternoon geometry
with the soft strong lines
of your mouth;
the music,
as the piano finds the fingers it shall love.
and the lightning
in monsoon darkness
that summons
kisses and revolutions…


We walk;
Lonely
amidst the crowded city streets
before the 3 p.m. punctuation
ends it all.


Not every woman needs
a hitchhiker!
So no daffodil skies,
or engraved rings
from Tiffany.
Maybe a pledge
to remember
our Paris?

Paradise is never lost


Photograph : Yours Truly