You were saying something about France

You were saying something about France

It doesn't surprise you to hear the opening
bars of a symphony, but you don't expect

birdsong through the rain, and it has rained
so long you have forgotten how cellos call

to mind old friends, cities you once walked
through till dawn, and a favourite sandwich

filling you haven't eaten since before you
knew the names of birds and symphonies.

An occuptional hazard hailed the article
you were reading in the library with some

dead painter on the cover, another day of
rain, the day we met, I seem to remember.

~