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The Quay
by
Helen Padway


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Walk the quay
watch the river barges work. Humming 
sturdy slippers full of cement sneer
at the anchored painted houseboats,
mistresses of the rich,
wearing undulating lace curtains 
in the wake and swell of the worker boats.

Walk the quay
watch lovers, young and old. The young find 
shadows, tangle legs, devour lips and lunch, 
the old smile, while bones soak 
sun. Veined hands wave greetings to the Bateaux 
Mouche filled with passing tourists. Bicycle 
riders weave through walkers in the warp 
of the path, joggers time the distance 
from bridge to bridge.

Walk the quay
read the water lines of history 
on bridge footings. The wind moves my hair
gulls swoop and feed on flotsam. Be a witness 
to scenes repeated year after year. 
It’s Paris. It’s April.

© by Helen Padway.
Used with the author’s permission.

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Helen Padway is theater trained and worked in both television and radio, writing and performing. She enjoyed a hiatus for love and family and is now the proud grandmother of fourteen grandchildren. Helen is a member of the Sparks and the Hartford Avenue Poets, is published both locally and nationally, and enjoys laughter and living in Glendale, Wisconsin. She is young enough to think that poetry can help change the world.

 


Post New Comment:
dotief@comcast.net:
C'est tres belle!
Posted 04/25/2011 09:42 AM
Linda Lee (Konichek):
Helen, thank you for this perfect trip away from home this morning...delightful and so full of images and senses and the best feelings of spring, no matter where we are.
Posted 04/25/2011 09:39 AM
Wilda Morris:
Take me along with you next time, Helen! Love it!
Posted 04/25/2011 08:41 AM
Katrina:
the quay in the loch of enchantment
Posted 04/25/2011 05:03 AM


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