I sit in between streets, in between ageing and learning,
learning to forget and trying to remember, eating time
before it’s cleared away as people pass, some looking
and leaning, some desiring to linger, longer, not knowing
I’m soon to be going, not noting I’ve been removed
from the menu, replaced in his city of time forgotten
thoughts; what we heard last night on the wind;
an echo, only, of the applause already appeased.
The bleachers are seats for shadows now, standing
in the fading light; trickling dust in their final flutter,
see the sparkle of the fall,
an acknowledgement of what grounded us together,
once, here, on these streets my shadow is slipping from.
All words and pictures by Damien B Donnelly.
This month is about enjoying my final sparkling meal before I am remove myself from the menu of Paris.