The wine waited and the flowers wilted
chocolates got soggy, limp and listless
the Eiffel dreams of standing tall and *****
slumped to side
and the Champs De Elysees gathered its circumference
and went around in circles.

You did not come as promised

Never mind,
Hope is  a cobweb through which we weave
spidery webs of deceit
sticking delicately to daydreams
fruit bowls of Eves apples
and candlelight caresses
that turned the pages of our ******
conversations into imaginary paragraphs
for  bestseller voyeurs.

We both made the same mistake
of getting the date wrong
and the timing out of daylight savings sync.

I will plan again for next summers
Postcard from Paris
to myself.

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© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 19 days ago