When my friend André was in his early 20's and living in Paris, he fell in love. Madly in love. With his death in 2000, I inherited his writings. In the mix, there are many poems about heartbreak and love. This is poem III of a series of André's early poems I've titled, A Man Who Loved Pucci:
Sonnet
I awoke, and you slept still
Breathing quietly as you will
The morning after a night of love.
And in that pale grey morning light
I felt your skin, so soft, so white
And touched and kissed it as a dove
Would brush its wing against its mate.
Then you'd stir and then you'd wake
And with a sleep-drunk movement turn
And hold me close as in the night
And doze again, a happy sight;
Then would I, as you, to sleep return.
And thus, my love, I remember you
In those days which were too few.
by André de Riano
Breathing quietly as you will
The morning after a night of love.
And in that pale grey morning light
I felt your skin, so soft, so white
And touched and kissed it as a dove
Would brush its wing against its mate.
Then you'd stir and then you'd wake
And with a sleep-drunk movement turn
And hold me close as in the night
And doze again, a happy sight;
Then would I, as you, to sleep return.
And thus, my love, I remember you
In those days which were too few.
by André de Riano
Read Poem I, here.
Read Poem II, here.
Our friendship.
Images: André and girl, private collection • Pucci scarf, 1969 from Taschen's PUCCI book
