La Vie En Rose

Recently I stumbled upon a reference to La Vie En Rose, an old favorite of mine, in a romance and had to hear Edith Piaf. It was so wonderful listening to it, evoking my first trip to Europe: my hubby and me sitting at a small table in a narrow cobblestone alleyway in Sorrento, enveloped in a mixture of accents: Italian, German, Spanish and, of course, French.

La Vie En Rose

Piaf’s voice, a lazy tremolo,
dresses me in gray      a pencil skirt
black piping at the sides
stockings seamed along the length of leg

a creamy silk blouse slips
along both arms           smoothing over
my torso to disappear
into the skirt’s snug embrace

in the charged space at record’s end
a resonant answer       you in dove gray
broadcloth warmed from your body
stalwart thighs in cuffed black slacks

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