Girl With a Beige Scarf

In the mornings I would walk

Along the shore-line

Whistling 'Sous les Ponts de Paris'

It was there that I would see her


To me the skies were blue

To her - grey

Lifeless and grey like the ocean

A desert the colour of steel


Often she would stop

Collect a shell

Studying this thing

Thrown up by the surf


Then she would toss it

Into the desert

Returning it back home

Wondering at its existence


Often I longed to run up

To stop her

To ask if she would mind

My company for a bit


But I never did do that

I left her

To what? - succumb

Victim to a preying world


I saw her once

Not her

Captured in a self portrait

So beautiful - so young


There her scarf was beige

On the beach - red

Once it streamed in the wind

Like the tail of a young boy's kite


Now she is gone

I still walk the shore

I read about her passing in the paper

I still whistle 'Sous les Ponts de Paris'


A child skips down to the sand

He takes her place

His kite soars upwards

Its tail is beige.


  • erin wynette

    i love the way you write!!!i can't help but put myself into the shoe of that girl!!!

    • dbremner

      Wow! Thanks a lot! Thanks for lending person to the poem!!

    • erin wynette

      hahahaha!!!you're welcome!!!there is something in youe poem, maybe the words you use that makes feel as if am the girl you're referring to and made me wanna say, YES ITS FOR ME!.IT'S FOR ME!!!am dreaming...lol

      • dbremner

        Then I dedicate the poem to you!

        • erin wynette

          weeeeeeeeeee!!!i'd love that!!thank you so much!!!hahaha..

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