Pray little girl

A Poem by Fabrice Poussin

A dancer as Degas may have once painted you;
misty in a corridor bathed in a subtle light,
you seem to waltz as you skip from tile to tile.

Not a sound, just a hazy envelope of light,
surrounded by a dream, nothing could be more real;
eyes semi closed, a heart softly murmurs a praise.

Giddiness is not a question to be pondered,
every fiber of your being floats in a tenuous dance;
your dress shapes a skin of pearls, diamonds and gold.

Your lips, your soul, your every breath a subtle smile,
gently your chest heaves a life you generously share;
a gift few can comprehend, fewer are able to make.

Continue on your path little girl, a fall is unlikely;
come closer, it seems the universe leads you forward,
inexorably as it was meant to be when the world began.

Dear Old Hem

A Poem by Fabrice Poussin

You sleep with the lions, at the foot of Kilimanjaro,
sweet child, with a rugged gaze, next to you
the old typewriter starves for one last stroke.Dear old Hem

I wonder, my dear old hero,
what is it like to stare at a double barrel
loaded with the after-life on a lonely day?

You had a way with words, my old friend;
the prize of prizes in your back pocket,
stories to tell for ages yet to come.

Was it simple irony that turned the gun
on a beautiful mind made of lifetimes
with two hands on the triggers of eternity?

It’s just punches in the dark now on the walls
of infinity, fishing for Noah in Spain, running
with the bulls, dreaming of a peace in Panam*.

You sleep with the lions, at the foot of Kilimanjaro,
sweet child, with a rugged gaze, next to you
the old typewriter starves for one last stroke.

*Panam is a name that has been used to speak of Paris, France, around the 1930’s to 50’s.