“I think I must be incapable in properly saying
That which honors the concern you show me.”
With that she placed her hand in his and in her
Best broken French she continued….
“Marcherez-vous avec moi avalez-vous mon chemin?”
(Will you walk with me my way?)
He replies, “Naturellement fe veux mon cher.”
(Naturally I will my dear.)
There is a time when a virtuous convention,
Once created betwixt a woman and a man,
Sanctifies even those most private of walks.
This walk being as it was – in the dusk of the evening
Had within it their roads laid out the same way.
Hand in hand in a shared silence both of them
Admiring the sky’s crimson closing.
With a small tribute to such as this toward virtue
He felt her cold fingers clutch together in his and
Just then she broke the daunting silence asking,
“La beauteu ciel est-elle suelement vue par ceux
qui choisissent de la partager?”
(Is the sky’s beauty only seen to those who choose to share it?)
His answer, “ Pas plus que l’amour, moncher. Pour garder
de lui est juste comme imutile. – Quel but est-il eoins
qui ‘il soit partage.”
(No more than love - for the keeping of it is just as useless.
Of what possible purpose is it unless it is shared?)
She seemed much affected with what he had said giving it a low sigh.
He was incapable of inquiring after the sigh so
He said nothing more ‘til they came to the corner of
Tomorrows' Road and Yesterdays' Pass.
That was where they were to part today.
Waiting for the path to clear he asked, “Est-ce
Que je dois vous server le reste de la mania?”
(Shall I attend you the rest of the way?)
She replied first with a look to his hand
And then to his eyes, “Pas du tout, monsieur.
Vous pouvez cependant me server toute la manua.”
(Not at all, sir. You may however attend me all the way.)
With this he seemed to loose his French verbs for a time
And it was not until they were steadfast alone in her
Bungalo that any French returned.
Yet the French that returned said not a single word.
She was most capable though the question
She answered was never asked.
If he had to have asked he would have asked,
“Cue ferai-je avec vous ?
Devrais-je vous aimer de tout mon cœur ?
Je crois que dans la route que nous prenons,
il cause l'intersection d'entre nous..”
Only the little French in her knows…..
Writing to me is about showing myself when and where it is proper to speak for "my characters"and when to speak in the first person. Here - using a narrative - I let the characters play their roles while giving them a first person feel. Is this a true story or is it just a story? Does it matter? No it doesn't because the point was settled between the characters leading the way.
