Le Baron Wine Bar, Chexbres, Swiss Alps.
Just a small coffee table between you and me now. Ten years and ten thousand miles apart only yesterday, when all we had were just memories. Prized, collectable possessions, once given to us with such generosity.
Silver threads of rain connect us, tie us together, cover the lake. Why is it raining every time we meet? I ask. It rains three hundred days a year in Chexbres, reply practical you. No, that's not true, and you know that, it would rain in the Sahara if you and I had a coffee there.
We order lots of cognac, local cheese and fresh bread. What defence do I need, against this open smile, these dark eyes, what defence could I possibly master?
You, me and Geneva Lake, and nothing between us, not even a small coffee table. Lives, luggage and grown up kids left behind, just for three days.
Such a poet in you J. Beautiful.
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