Lover

My hair was a veil and your laughter a dance,
a romance in a weird way maybe.
It was in a library in a place called Paris,
I didn’t know anyone there but by chance.

The books all in French must have heard
how my mind was only with you,
when we met in a Baudelaire poem
your hands were becoming a bird.

Your bird then revealed my veil and my cover
in a room with a view of Montmartre.
In your eyes lived a war struck memory,
twice my age, half my length: my French lover.

Comments on: "Lover" (8)

  1. Ina,

    This is absolutely superb.
    Quite one of the best love poems I have ever read.

    Arohanui
    David
    xxx

  2. ghostwriter3104 said:

    Nicely done!

  3. David is right, Ina! This is superb – so Parisian!
    Two of my favorite lines:
    ‘I didn’t know anyone there but by chance’
    and
    ‘we met in a Baudelaire poem’
    but every word makes the whole perfect. Love it! XO ♥

  4. Oh la la…

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