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Ghosts of France

One month in May, I journeyed far, winged through the sky t’wards Eastern star, to land upon the Charles de Gaulle, grand port of ile de France’s sprawl, live city where studied Renoir. A taxi to a ville by car, this ville oh Vesinet not far, walked round the ibis lake to loll, one month in May. Then back to gates of iron bar, round homes of which it seems there are, the old grey ghosts of France in all. They walk baguettes down lonely hall, the men in black, women in shawl, one month in May.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

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Date: 7/4/2015 12:45:00 AM
Awesome poem, epic story... Have yourself a safe and Happy 4th of July.... Love SKAT
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Date: 6/3/2015 8:29:00 AM
what a journey you have here, the breaks invites the reader to read more.. ;)~olive eloisa
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Brian Avatar
HighWave Brian
Date: 6/3/2015 1:12:00 PM
Thanks Olive, I'm a bit of a nostalgic, historian, and really like France! I see you are a prolific poet too!