La Langue Française
 
 
I first came across you looking out of the window
smoking pensively in long streamers, full of care.
you were like a photograph of someone, gazing from an apartment,
head wreathed with tiny flowers,
at the mediaeval clock tower striking noon
over the rain-dressed streets, the 1930s cars rolling
serenely on.
I didn’t like you, I confess.
you seemed pretentious, pedantic,
full of self-centred philosophy.
you were constantly giving people roses:
sensuous dark red roses,
like those for a lover.
imagine my surprise
when I found you smiling that day,
sudden subtleties apparent
under your hushed, beautiful face.
you turned to me
and gave me a whole bouquet.
 
 
2013_Madeleine-Ballard
Madeleine Ballard
Year 13
Diocesan School for Girls, Auckland