'and us?' a question left unasked...

'And...
Us?'
She him asked...
As if a question
She left for him
Unasked
For several years...
Which she kept
For long
Within
Like her girlhood's song...

he being in France
The last half of March
And the first half of April...
Thought only about things to be done...
Good food...
And perfume
And wine...
And painting...
And so many other things
Like french novellas...

But she came with perfume french...
Reminding him of Grasse...
A small town
With sand colored towers
With clocks...
Twenty kilometres away from the sea coast...
Near Nice...
he saw houses made of stone
And roofs on them made of tiles...
Sloping and deflecting light
And the sea breeze...

And soon
he got submerged
In
Lavender...
Myrtle...
Mimosa...

he got the aroma
Filling ...
Chanel...
Caron...
Dior...

'au revoir...'

She muttered
And his dream
Broke off...
Perhaps...

he saw her walking away...
she who left a question unasked...
'And us?'

he smiled...
And
Opening his note pad
Wrote only:
'je t'aime...'

And placed that note
On the bench where he sat...
Put a small star like stone
Brought from his pocket...
On that piece of paper white...
And walked,
singing a song-
a french one probably,
And he walked...

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