demesne de ma belle mademoiselle

tired winds whisper through the shutters
breathing  stories into the dust above the fireplace
where once hot embers warmed your toes
now only ash and fallen plaster lie in remembrance

the mottled mirror in its gilt frame has long since gone
the furniture too – auctioned off and wheeled out
on sack trolleys borrowed from the stables
themselves now ravaged by worm and rust

left behind when all had fled this crumbling pile
your white dress and pale skin stalking the corridors
ghostly and forlorn on floorboards unfit to bear
the weight of words that tumble from these walls

I too am lost as I wander from room to room
doors creaking to the push of my hand
filtered sunlight finding the motes of memories
that float in limbo in time’s absence

a bell far off rings and in my mind I scurry off
down staircases to kitchen and scullery
the servant boy who idolised the Mademoiselle
who dreamt of running away with his belle

only to have found himself an old man selling
tomatoes and tales under the lime tree in the square
searching every young woman’s eyes in hope
that one day, maybe, she would return for him

 

6 thoughts on “demesne de ma belle mademoiselle

  1. Great story-telling as always Colin. The dereliction is especially well described. I would have liked another verse about the old man and his hopes, wishes and dreams. It finishes too quickly for me! Love it. G

    Liked by 1 person

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