The lights on our bridge look lonely tonight.
I am lonely tonight.
Lovers pass like fireflies. Incandescent hearts. Collars raised, they are close with their heat.
The quay cobblestone is cold and hard, my knuckles curled between its grooves, palms raised.
In America, it is autumn. The leaves tremble for an anxious fate, while someone strums nostalgia’s dissonant chord.
But spring was our prelude in the celestial city, and summer our pas a deux. This season is the absence of sound. The Seine murmurs, but I cannot hear her silver tongue. The leaves lie, quiet, on the ground. I cannot recollect that which has not happened.
And the Eiffel Tower still shimmers like a shattered diamond across my shoulder.
And the flocking tourists still squawk too loud.
And the musician still plucks his instrument’s nerves.
And the air still smells of your perfume.
And my heart screams your name.
Our bridge still stands.
It has been standing for hundreds of years.
I will wait.
(I am still so young)
9 comments:
Wow. Just ... wow.
Thanks, Jaye.
I have no patience for novels right now, and am really enjoying writing these shorter pieces. There is something so satisfying about beginning, and completing, a story in the same night.
In America, it is autumn. The leaves tremble for an anxious fate, while someone strums nostalgia’s dissonant chord.
Nothing could be richer!!!
And well said...The short story is much more amenable than the novel...
Standing on the bridge, and not standing on it, at the same time. The measure of time is endless, yet it passes in the blink of an eye.
You captured a raw power with this one. Well done.
Thank you again, Abhinav. Your enthusiasm really touches me. :)
And Jason, I really did hope to conjure a ghost in this one. And that will to sit down when the rest of the world hurtles forward. There's something rather noble, if delusional, about it all.
Thanks so much for your thoughtful reading.
Oh, this is lovely. I felt my heart skip a beat! And I just walked over that bridge last weekend!! :-)
I envy you, shameless. My husband and I were fortunate enough to honeymoon in Paris, but I would love to return.
Thank you so much for your kind words!
...and the pain will go away in a thousand years or two ...painful!
You hit it where it hurt:D
N
Okay I did not go back this far. This is gorgeous. The saddest line, for me: "This season is the absence of sound." Sorry it took me so long to read!
Post a Comment