
(shadorma)
rendezvous
merriment echoes
purity
of their love
savouring stolen moments
‘til they meet again
Every Wednesday, they met behind the gate like clandestine lovers. She would bring a picnic basket and he, a bottle of Merlot. She would often giggle like a young teen despite her sixty years in age. It was the only time she felt alive and filled with a sense of hope until her return home to care for her senile brother.
wind blows in her hair
blossoms fall softly on her cheek
from the plum tree
© Tournesol ’16/02/21














