I was reading the Good Weekend magazine a couple of weeks ago and saw this article about Lady Antonia Fraser and her love affair and ultimate marriage to the playwright Harold Pinter. In it, there are two poems which captured my imagination, but this one especially:
PARIS
The curtain white in folds,
She walks two steps and turns,
The curtain still, the light
Staggers in her eyes.
The lamps are golden.
Afternoon leans, silently.
She dances in my life.
The white day burns.
Advertisement
I was just reading about this book on NPR and it looks fabulous. This poem really touched me as well. Thanks for posting it!