Neville

Nevafar

Nevafar

 

Her words, although lost on the wind

Je riviendrai mon amour ..

Yet still they come back to haunt me

..

And like the scent of her drifting

They do tease and delight

The corners of these poor eyes and these lips

..

Yes, poor things

Both now seriously redundant,

Yet primed and with hope, forever and always  ..