the train carries us from the center
of the city beyond museums. shopping,
restaurants, and hotels with
valets and concierge....
deeper and deeper into the soft, golden light of
provence....tuberose, stone walls, and
shutters in a faded shade of blue like
shards of pottery and the sea on a stormy
morning in brittany
walking through the village market,
my fingers brush against woody branches of
rosemary and lavender...
she sees me lingering over her small cart of
vintage linens and takes the bundle of
lavender from my hands and wraps them in
something so delicate and honest
it takes my breath away...
"merci..." I stumble through tears that tumble
on century old cobbles....I hold them to my
chest and breathe deeply...
whenever there is lavender...I will return to
this place and her soft eyes
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