She was quiet and almost sad.
Olds ladies were painting.
I could not say anything.
I just threw flowers in the river.
I don’t love you anymore
and I’m going to leave you.
Cruel words a poet should
never say to her muse.
How strangely still the water was!
Did the women notice something?
Flowers danced silently on the Seine.
Lost world in watercolours.
I left without looking back.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
Fleurs sur la Seine © 2019– F.G.M.