Paris

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Winter in England

afternoon giving way

to evening

filling the windows

of this ancient room

with darkness.

Yet for this moment

I am not here.

I am playing scratchy

smoky

sensual

haunting

French jazz

on my turntable.

I can almost smell

the Gauloises

and the Chanel.

I can almost hear

Pigalle

bursting with life

outside my window.

I can almost imagine

you and I

somehow both

transported

to a Paris summer.

I am sprawled

loose limbed and easy

in an old leather chair

drinking wine.

And you are dancing

and shedding clothes

and blowing me kisses

while I

smiling

enchanted

enraptured

adoring

applaud.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

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