Salim Gold

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Recall

Those winds buffeting the isle were not sweet,

Until you came and brought your smile and laugh.

I saw you as I’d never seen une femme—

Une vieille belle—as spirited as Spring.

It was March, but the winds, wild, spelled April.

You reached down cream to feed wild cats.  I glimpsed

Your cream waist, a-gleam like Aegean froth.

I was in love—to imagine you nude.

You never gave any hint of feeling—

Except that “last” embrace, when I felt you,

Gingerly, your ginger-red hair a-gleam.

That instant was not love, just affection—

A tangible amiability—

But winter was, for me, now history.

 

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