sixwordstories | (no subject)

...It had better not become colder.

At least the snow is pretty--and there isn't much of it.

I prefer the warm.

The warm weather will come soon enough.

Right now, you cannot be certain if it will be the last snow of the season or not. It makes it all the more beautiful and poignant.

...*pats* Of course, Jehan.

*tilts his head back and watches the flakes fall*

Perhaps I am reading too much into the snow?

You? I doubt it.

*laughs a little*

Sometimes I think I do not see the same things as everyone else. It must be maddening for you to put up with.

Oh, we endure. You write nice things about your world.

I have to write about it; no one ever comes to visit.

*Pouts* Not more snow. Sun. More sun. I want spring already.

Spring will come.

But now we have this beauty to enjoy!

*Sighs* You're a guy. You just don't know the torture of a spring line that you can't wear because it's always so cold until well into April.

Oh, you have new clothes you are excited to wear?

I suppose the cold would be a disapointment then...

*shrugs. He likes to see the pretty girls in their spring outfits.*

Well... no. Not actually. Not new new anyway. New to me but cute. I just miss being able to leave the house and not freezing to death because I justified tights being an acceptable alternative to pants.

*isn't sure he quite understands, but nods anyway*

*looks up* Not more snow...

But it is pretty to watch.

*hugs herself* It is until it's trod over.

Then you can see the footprints of all the people who passed through. You can't do that on an ordinary day.

And you can step just where someone else has stepped and know that somehow you shared the day with a stranger--and that can make the world seem a bit less lonely.

How beautiful.

*tilts her head at him* You must be a writer.

Th-thank you.

*blush*

I write a bit of poetry.

*smiles* I love poetry.

*perks*

Do you have a favorite poet?

Oh! Oh, I don't know them by their names, but I've had poetry read to me...

*pauses--a lot of the poetry he reads is not the sort one would read to a girl. Political satire and The Divine Comedy are not exactly wooing material*

Do you remember any of it? I might be able to tell you who wrote it.

... I'm afraid I don't remember. *embarrassed* I'm sorry.

*sees he has embarrassed her and feels dreadful for it. So he recites her a poem.*

Vous rappelez-vous notre douce vie,
Lorsque nous etions si jeunes tous deux,
Et que nous n'avions au coeur d'autre envie
Que d'etre bien mis et d'etre amoureux,

Lorsqu'en ajoutant votre age a mon age,
Nous ne comptions pas a deux quarante ans,
Et que, dans notre humble et petit menage,
Tout, meme l'hiver, nous etait printemps?

Beaux jours! Manuel etait fier et sage,
Paris s'asseyait a de saints banquets,
Foy lancait la foudre, et votre corsage
Avait une epingle ou je me piquais.

Tout vous contemplait. Avocat sans causes,
Quand je vous menais au Prado diner,
Vous etiez jolie au point que les roses
Me faisaient l'effet de se retourner.

Je les entendais dire: Est elle belle!
Comme elle sent bon! Quels cheveux a flots!
Sous son mantelet elle cache une aile,
Son bonnet charmant est a peine eclos.

J'errais avec toi, pressant ton bras souple.
Les passants crovaient que l'amour charme
Avait marie, dans notre heureux couple,
Le doux mois d'avril au beau mois de mai.

Nous vivions caches, contents, porte close,
Devorant l'amour, bon fruit defendu,
Ma bouche n'avait pas dit une chose
Que deja ton coeur avait repondu.

La Sorbonne etait l'endroit bucolique
Ou je t'adorais du soir au matin.
C'est ainsi qu'une ame amoureuse applique
La carte du Tendre au pays Latin.

O place Maubert! o place Dauphine!
Quand, dans le taudis frais et printanier,
Tu tirais ton bas sur ton jambe fine,
Je voyais un astre au fond du grenier.

J'ai fort lu Platon, mais rien ne m'en reste;
Mieux que Malebranche et que Lamennais,
Tu me demontrais la bonte celeste
Avec une fleur que tu me donnais.

Je t'obeissais, tu m' etais soumise;
O grenier dore! te lacer! te voir
Aller et venir des l'aube en chemise,
Mirant ton jeune front a ton vieux miroir.

Et qui done pourrait perde la memoire
De ces temps d'aurore et de firmament,
De rubans, de fleurs, de gaze et de moire,
Ou l'amour begaye un argot charmant?

Nos jardins etaient un pot de tulipe;
Tu masquais la vitre avec un jupon;
Je prenais le bol de terre de pipe,
Et je te donnais le tasse en japon.

Et ces grands malheurs qui nous faisaient rire!
Ton manchon brule, ton boa perdu!
Et ce cher portrait du divin Shakespeare
Qu'un soir pour souper nons avons vendu!

J'etais mendiant et toi charitable.
Je baisais au vol tes bras frais et ronds.
Dante in folio nous servait de table
Pour manger gaiment un cent de marrons.

La premiere fois qu'en mon joyeux bouge
Je pris un baiser a ton levre en feu,
Quand tu t'en allais decoiffee et rouge,
Je restai tout pale et je crus en Dieu!

Te rappelles-tu nos bonheurs sans nombre,
Et tous ces fichus changes en chiffons?
Oh que de soupirs, de nos coeurs pleins d'ombre,
Se sont envoles dans les cieux profonds!

*beams and sighs as he recites to her, closing her eyes*

Oh, how beautiful. How beautiful.

*ducks his head slightly with a pleased smile*

You liked it?

Yes! What is it called? Who wrote it?

I haven't given it a title yet.

*blushes*

The poet's name is Jean Prouvaire.

What a way with words you have! I don't know a word of French but-- oh!

*kisses his cheek* My name is Lucy.

*Is absolutely pink now and grinning out of sheer embarrassment and pleasure*

Merci...I thank you...

Enchante, Lucy.

Pretty.

It is, is it not?

I like the quiet of the snow.

I like the way it dances in the air.

It does seem to dance!

Gently. It dances very gently and cautiously.

I used to try and catch it on my hands when I was little.

*Has tried this in the past month*

Ah--me too!

*a smile* It's so lovely.

The snow has a quiet beauty that rain never manages.

Oh, yes! I do love the rain, but there is something to be said for the peacefulness of snow...

I enjoy the peacefulness of it.

I do, too... so good for just thinking...

Yes! It is!

*nods*

And the gray skies are not so dreary, because they are dropping bits of purity from the heavens.

That is a lovely way to think of it!

Thank you.

*blushes*

*a little giggle* You are very welcome!