I have seen what you wrote in my diary.
‘I want to see you again – if its possible’
Your address is given as 36 Rue Vendage
I send this letter to the old address
In the hope it will see you somehow
Just as your words were destined to see me.
Life has been assez bon pour moi,
I live in England in a town called Abingdon
For forty years I have worked in a cafe.
During breaks I smoke my cigarette of choice
Sometimes I hear you say
‘Pourquoi Camel? Pourquoi pas Marlboro?’
I have grey eyes, grey brows, grey hair …
‘Pourquoi?’ I hear you say ‘Why have you gone all grey?’
Ma Chere Catherine, I had no choice at all, I am sixty three.
My eyes went grey when I lost the picture of you.
My brows went grey because I saw you no more.
My hair went grey because I thought of you – all the time.
Now I close my eyes, imagine where you are …
In a shaded apartment in the French Midi
Or travelling with a fair, reading people’s palms.
And if you choose to write back
‘Oh la la’ I will cry ‘It was written in the stars’
Je t’embrasse tres fort.
– Theme for Abingdon Share a Poem in March is Choices – second possible poem