L'Amour Toujour L'Amour - Poem by Dónall Dempsey
From the warmth of our bed
we watched his legs
walk back & forth.. back & forth
We made love
to the rhythm of his walking
and an hour after he was still there
walking back & forth.. .in utter frustration.
We peeped out at him
like a good actor in a bad play
marching back & forth
glancing at his watch in mime...bunch of deep red roses in his hand.
Obviously someone’s lover...except his lover had not come.
We nicknamed him Marcel Marceau.
3 hours now!
“Oh poor boy! ”
you run out to him
wearing only perfume.
“Monsieur...monsieur...excusez moi monsieur! ”
a big hug & kiss
(to his surprise & astonishment)
and dash back in again in a flash.
He, probably thought
he had... imagined it.
He waited a bit and left
his deep red roses
at our door
departed happier than he had been before.
he came back
not with a Jeanne but a Jacques.
Thanked you for
your marvellous gesture
and slyly laughed that he would have
preferred if it had come
from your lovely
That night we dined and drank the most exquisite wine
courtesy of Mr. Marceau.
For the rest of the week
we always found
a bunch of red roses
left at our door.
“For the mademoiselle
& her kindness.”
City of Lights & Lovers!
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