come visit
come visit me in august
with my garden in full bloom
the scent of bounty lingers
just below the harvest air
we can sit upon my piazza
look at hyacinths and roses
pick a fig from its branches
served with cold chablis
taste the fruit of prickly pear
and toast to being here
come visit me in august
while the air us warm and clear
the fall is surely coming
and we’re no longer near
upon the last note dying
mist attaches to street lights
illuminated glowing shrouds
dust and ashes swirling
the remnants of sad romantic stories
floating in smoke and fog
drowsing in scents of wind song
heavy and clinging on the damp air
phonometrician
there will always be satie
whenever the incandescent light
that man cannot live by
is replaced with a scented candle
whenever chardonnay or Beaujolais,
is decanted into two glasses
whenever there is desire for an autumn
parisienne night to set the mood
from the everyday mundane
to the sublime avant garde
Illustration : Subarnarekha Pal
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