‘Laura’- By David Faber

I saw her immediately,

quietly self-possessed,

reading her novel

tranquilly in

the waiting room,

a patient day

tripper like us,

observing her out

of the corner of my

eye on the bus,

until she came to

my elbow in the

dining room of

the paddle steamer,

her Dutch peroxide

locks, sensual and

mature, drawn back

to reveal her swan

like neck, strong

and supple and

sensitive like

herself. I asked

if she was enjoying

the trip and her green

eyes danced a little

minuet of affirmative

pleasure. I introduced

myself and she firmly

took my hand,

telling me her name.

After lunch I

joined her on the

foredeck, chatting

and enjoying the

balmy breeze gliding

over the grey water,

telling her the story

of Petrarca and his Laura,

which she liked. The

birds of prey wheeled

above on the currents,

and echelons of ducks

landed on the river

as shags looked on

individualistically.

At journey’s end

we said `arrivederci’.

 


Words by David Faber

Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash

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