Whilst living in France, we sadly lost a young neighbour, killed in a motor bike/car crash. 

It was September, 2011, and her loss struck a chord with me. All life is precious, of course, but it seemed even worse to me in a beautiful place on a beautiful day.

David

GABRIELLA

A young woman was buried in Ste-Maxime today.

Her name was Gabriella;

She was thirty four and lived next door.

I didn’t know her well, just smiles, bonjour, bonsoir.

Not even tu, toi.

She worked in a café bar where I often take an early morning coffee,

Hot, strong, sweet and black, in a small cup.

I didn’t know her well, but still I’ll miss her;

Her jaunty, sauntering walk, looking over her shoulder,

Tossing back her long titian hair, straightening a chair,

Exchanging banter with the crockery crashing Christian behind the bar,

With Charlene and Toni as they set tables and serve croissant and coffee

To their morning regulars; fishermen, the crew of the ferry,

Marc, the chocolatier.

Victim of another’s driving error, Gabriella paid the ultimate price.

Just thirty four – just half my age.

A small sign outside the café explained why they were closed;

Gabriella was buried today at four thirty,

At thirty four,

Beneath a clear blue sky,

As in trees above, doves cry,

Goodbye Gabriella,

Goodbye.

© deezee 2011