She packed two silk dresses
and
seven different red lipsticks
caught the midnight train
to Paris

The rhythm of train lulled her
to the memory of yesterdays

She was cut off from the world
that she once lived in vibrancy
by a pair of cruel hands clasped around her neck
deceiving her as a silk tie but deadly
Light went out of her in that luxurious villa
Her shadow ghost roamed among the Spanish antique furniture
and priceless artworks

She pressed her pale face
on the tan sandstone wall
longing for the sun to rescue her
She envied the robins sang freely in the midst of bluebells and primroses

The night was starless
But she saw Van Gogh’s cafe de nuit
and smelled the roses wrapped in newspaper
resting casually on the table
by a café allongé
The soft song of J’en connais
calling her home

* This poem was…