Before We First Met…

I wrote this poem upon hearing this song, and keeping in mind the piece of flash fiction that was written the other day. That’s about it.  It’s a happy completion of my self-imposed 31-Day Challenge.  Enjoy.

Before we first met, before I first fell for you,

lamp light had paved the way along

the river walk, guiding me safely

home–which should not come as a surprise

–since this was the typical route.  My pockets

sheltered prudent hands, chapped

from the settling autumn, my feet

shattered rusted leaves with each step,

tip-toe across the cobbled streets, avoiding

cracks the best as one can–

a game I like to play from time to time.  The opposing

flickering lamps along the footpath promenaded

as the music and commotion drew near.  The bakery,

the apparel shops, the tourist nooks had retired

for the evening.  The moon cascaded atmosphere,

as it reflected upon the water, skipping into pools of passing eyes.

The Café was lit up from opaque shades, the patio inviting

as the howled call of accordion notes by my best man and his gal,

who smiled as prominently as her left hand.   And you sat

just a table beyond, far enough to not hear my excuses

of being unclean shaven and having to walk the cat,

but no looks generated from my abuses.

The seeing your blue eyes, my contemplation resolved

your red lips tossed words with a fury while I moved

around your table; my bumping into your chair absolved.

Aside your light smile, a finger rested upon your cheek,

thumb beneath your chin, turned to me slightly and quick,

but back to converse–an elegant look to scare away the meek.

A white blouse covered with a blue cardigan accentuated your style,

picking up your red wine–Pino Noir the bottle read, 2011–

sipping after a bite of your Tiramisu, a mouth feel and taste worth your while.

My option was the same, but you paid no mind,

and trying to gain your attention I dropped my spoon,

my napkin and a pen–whatever I could find.

As the conversation continued, driving between mine and yours–

my friends brought up the fact of my having gone mad, but

I compelled to explain to them between your conversation pours.

Moment called for action–light prisimed through your empty glass

graced with a hint of quiet lipstick whispered hints, temptation.

Leaving your tip, you exited through the restaurant before your pass.

Downtrodden, be not–the words of my friend–another

moment shall arise, and quite possibly you’ll get your chance.

To mess with fate, you should not bother.

Your long skirt flowed with your turns, with the double cheek kiss

Adieu, your shoulders said as they turned for your departure–

an opportunity waited (less than patiently) for, but not amiss.

Pardoning myself, cue illustrating my desire to follow through,

an attempt to secure attention, to clean-slate the impression new.

Remember my foot slipping upon the wrought iron fence–new shoes.

As stated:  I fell for you.

fiction love poetry romanticism writing

Christopher S. Malone View All →

I play with words and invisible objects.

A mind, a pen and a piece paper have the best relationship ever.

---

"Remember this--if you shut your mouth, you have your choice."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

10 Comments Leave a comment

  1. Reblogged this on The Infinite Abyss(es) and commented:

    I’m reblogging this post of mine because of tonight’s episode of How I Met Your Mother. It’s probably one of the narratives that I’ve written that I’ve enjoyed.

    The fact that “La Vie En Rose” is played during the episode brought out the romantic in me. For lack of a better phrase, I “lost my shit” upon hearing this ukulele rendition on a show that I’ve loved these past years.

    Welcome back, and enjoy!

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