Yours always
she had said
or written on the back
of the postcard
with a photograph
of her on the front
in black and white
(not sepia)
looking back at him
with a dour expression
on her rather plump face
and her black hair
parted at the side
and her dark eyes
gazing at him
as if asking
do you remember us
that night in Paris?
And that white dress
and those pearls
yes those pearls
he remembered
her taking them off
in the Parisian hotel
the last thing removed
before they made love
after a night out
at a cafe and a show
with dancing girls
but why
the dour expression?
She certainly wasn't
dour that night
or that other night in Madrid
but the postcard was the last
and she never sent one again
despite her writing
always yours and dated
on the back May 1922
he kept it locked away
in a drawer
what else
could a broken
hearted lover do?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem