The comic was mine
Until the joke went out of date
The hyacinths never smelt as divine
As sakura trees.
Japan didn't appeal to my senses
But you turning pages
Had me intrigued.
The wind on your back
The sun on your face
The yachts in full sight
Of what's in your way.
Sitting there,
Coffee in one hand
Newspaper held down with the other
Your dog tied to the bench
And the wind changes again.
Not phased, you don't pack things away.
Was it you?
Reading my daily
Drawing colours in the funnies.
The front page
What does it say?
Fish gills or seagulls?
About Me
- Leila Rousseau
- Constant complainer, effervescent explainer, road rager, mostly moody, joke laugher, make believer, neverender, air breather and happy if you allow me. This is the incomplete scrapbook of Leila Rousseau's modernly artistic scrapings. Nothing is clear and nothing is really here. We can't all be inspired, and we can't all be interested. Be humble to knowledge, as it will always be greater and more fierce than ego and explanation. Everything here is my own, but I wonder whose I am. So I could pass on the credit, when I might make someone giggle, a little.
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