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Jardin de Provence

French man in a garden shop,

the proprietor perhaps,

never pushy, a gentle smile.

I always like gentle men –

their passive veneer concealing

a mystery worth unearthing.

Looks like he takes his café au lait 

with a side of Sartre and pastis.

 

French man in a garden shop

amid the hedges and ceramic pots,

brocade of curling vines

their emerald tendrils beckoning,

periwinkle blue hydrangea

achingly beautiful

yearning quietly from their white iron urns,

the filigree trellis thick with climbing roses –

young, tender and pink,

languid and lush.

 

French man in a garden shop –

a tranquil soul who offers

roses and refuge

from 21st century chaos

for passersby.

© 2024 Gail Tirone. All rights reserved.

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