« Previous Next »

First Days

shine always clearest: sunlight sharpening
blue geraniums on your muslin dress,
the firmness of your grip surprising me.
We laughed at napkins folded into swans,
the knives and spoons from different sets, the red
gondolas on the curtain. Back outside,
we paused; you smiled and walked towards your stop,
your head up high in sudden rain. I felt
the same as on my first Parisian day:
too keen, I lost myself in Châtelet’s
high-ceilinged streets, where the bright neon arrows
and exit signs all led back to each other,
and I turned from shop to dizzy shop, unsure
of how to ask where I could find the sky.

by Arun Sagar

[Previously published in Hand Luggage Only, Open Poetry Sonnet Competition Anthology]

Arun Sagar currently lives in France, where he is a doctoral student at Rouen University. Some of his poems have appeared in journals including The Literateur, Press 1, nthposition and Free Verse.

See links to all sonnets by this author

Pat Jones
Published 23 August 2011