Tangerine Dreams, by Henry Bladon

Tangerine Dreams

All the way there the rain had been thrumming on the sidewalk.
My shoes were soaked through to my feet.

When I arrived, the lights were low, the room was warm
and there was a whiff of cinnamon.

I peered across the darkened space and saw Marie in her big chair.
She looked relaxed. 

Perhaps appropriately, she was autumnal; 
all burnt umber, Naples yellow and Venetian red. 

Her welcoming smile glowed in the candlelight,
beneath the dignity of her auburn hair. 

Her movements were comforting, her voice reassuring.
My nerves melted away.

We drank some wine.
Age difference was never acknowledged.

I played the guitar and sang her a song. 
We drank more wine.

The last thing I recall was her asking me, did I want a peach?

Henry Bladon

This poem was inspired by Les fruits où navigue mon désire, by Theo Tobiasse (France) 1984.

Henry is a writer, poet and mental health essayist based in Somerset in the UK. His work has appeared may times in The Ekphrastic Review.