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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=528090" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>What She Gave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=528090" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She gave you a postcard print <br>Of Marc Chagall. You pinned it <br>To the inside of your bedroom door.<br>It had a Florence postmark <br>On the back; you imagined her spittle <br>On the stamp, her tongue licking<br>Until the stamp stuck. You wished<br>You could have been at her side<br>When she toured the Florence sites; <br>Wished in your secret thoughts<br>You could have shared her bed; <br>Felt her twist and turn in the night, <br>Sensed her body’s closeness as you lay.<br>She had written neatly on the back; <br>Her words conveying that day’s tour <br>And things she’d seen and done with him.<br>Before you’d pinned the card to the door<br>You had smelt the surface for her scent<br>As if she’d secretly hid some message there<br>Amongst the smells and aromas of her hand.<br>He’s just a friend, she said, seeking the arts<br>Of Florence and its galleries and famous sites. <br>How little she knows how much her being <br>Fills your thoughts and life and weary days <br>And all your lonely long dreams at nights</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Terry+Collett">Terry Collett</a></strong></div>

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