The Lady and the parasol (3)

 
       
A drowsy day and sleeping streets        
fragrant jacarandas and futile shade        
another glass to quench a thirst        
which would not subside;        
the sun high beneath the pines        
I sat and thought one thought,        
I think she knew,        
I could not hide my praise;        
sun glasses laid aside,        
to hide behind a darkened lens        
and wine red glass was not polite.        
I wanted her to know.        
She drew her robe about her breasts        
innocent gesture not to conceal        
she knew the worth of ivory flesh        
saw my hands clasped tight.        
So the day progressed        
as when first we met,        
if ten paces is a meeting.        
Her graceful neck long and strong        
she stood straight-backed        
robe to her feet,so out of place,        
I did not notice,it looked so right        
said goodbye (not au revoir?)        
        
There were sights to see        
that were my intent,        
through blazing streets I strolled,        
to admire again this thing of beauty.          
Baskets on their heads they stood        
but one was missing  . . .In fear I turned ,      
panic on my mind, for hours I ran,        
so it seemed, terror at my soul        
it could not be. . .. it cannot be !        
        
The square was as before        
the table too,cypress shade,        
a parasol neat and folded        
empty glass,a lipstick stain,        
the chair set back. . . . .        
an echo of sandalled feet . . . .        
dancing on the pavement        
and she was gone . . . . .        
        
Before I left for home I went again,        
long shadows casting gloom,        
all were present but which was she ?        
I could not tell,   .   .   .    
the sun in my eyes,        
tears about my cheeks.