The Grande Dame
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By luigi_pagano
Sun, 06 Aug 2017
- 1429 reads
3 comments
I’ve come once again
to my auntie’s chateau
in Provence.
The Grande Dame reckons
that the reason I visit
is to escape the rain
back home.
I say that it isn’t
for that alone
but to show affection
to a crotchety
but lovable old crone.
She has played host
with grace
to writers and artists
and their ghosts
still haunt the place.
Her art collection
was second to none
but in nineteen-thirty
at the height of the Depression
almost all were sold
except one that remains
to ease her pain.
It shows tall trees
with pine cones and acorns
in the tangle of branches
that vie for attention
with the blue sky above.
Who is the painter, I ask,
is he famous? Mais non,
she replies with a shrug
but I wish that it was.
It can only be attributed
to a man called 'Anon'.
I proffer a hankie for her tears,
and give her a hug.
© Luigi Pagano 2017
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Comments
This is such an endearing
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
This is such an endearing poem Luigi. .very much enjoyed reading.
Jenny. xx
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