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A Poem by livspen

I had a dream I'd somehow met this woman
At a party. 
A summer barbecue on a windless day.
But how could that be?

She hung about the apple trees and then stood 
In the centre of the picnic blanket, gesturing and fooling
In raspy, warm French. Accusing people. Grinning.
Like a kid.
No one asked her for a song.
She sang anyway.
Perhaps an accordioniste appeared from nowhere,
All moustache and absinthe, and maybe there was a
Girl with a hat, plain as a button, going
Round us all, smiling shyly, proudly at her companion.
I don't remember now.

When we danced,
Her hair smelt of dust and rosewater.
Her mauve blue eyes closed in their bulbous sockets
Beneath the matching strands of arched pencil brow
And she couldn't let go of the music.

Padam, padam, padam.

When dusk fell over us, her eyes
Turned to glistening white moons
And we listened to her dripping her life out
In spoonfuls
Of dolorous notes
Her hands clambering towards the beaten sky.
Clinging to each other.
Reaching out for desperation.
The songs fell one by one
Like crushed roses
Strewn over the lawn.
She bowed out gracefully
Her shoulders rounded over
And her humorous blue eyes still glittering.
Following behind her was the shadow
Of the 20th century, weeping and limping with wars.
Then the stars glowed above, and I heard the echo of her voice
Like a sparrow's song.

© 2010 livspen

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Added on August 6, 2010
Last Updated on August 6, 2010
Tags: piaf, edith



Brighton, Sussex, United Kingdom

Im Liv. I'm from Brighton, England. I write, constantly. Enjoy. more..

Emmeline Emmeline

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