Like a heavy Thirties’ vibrato, the early
talkie movie strings exquisite
yet tainting,
your restrained pose remains
steadfast before the storm, long shadows
of a vengeance which threatens
you, barely withheld. Still
your smiling eyes stare
back from Paris cafés through
mists of Gitanes, drenched
in sepia, like the relics of some
melancholy sun
© copyright David F. Barker 2013
Ciscography 
This is such a visual poem for me! I love it.
For some reason I am absolutely fascinated by the 30s, and I just love the sepia photos I have from my parents.
I am an avid follower of Agatha Christie’s Poirot and I watch them quite obsessively over and over. I am not even particularly bothered about the plots, although I have to say I do like a”cosy” murder!
But those episodes set in the thirties just “get” me. And they all smoke like chimneys!! Wonder if they are Gitanes!! :
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There’s a sadness to this, lovely poem.
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cool feel
and tone
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