The Silver Columbina Mask

She wore a long white dress

With a black choker on her neck.

Her hair pulled back and

A silver Columbina mask on her face

That’s how she would visit him in his dreams.

Three times a week

Forty days after she died.

He didn’t cry

She talked to him casually

“What’s the mask for?” he asked

She played with his greying beard

Stroked his face

“Open your heart again,” she said.

He got up, leaned on the bed rest

The blood in him started circulating

His face was red

She placed her head on his chest

They talked

She liked to hear his voice

Telling her about the small things

He had a wonderful butter croissant

He wrote for three hours

How he walked across the

Bridge overlooking The Seine.

He talked more about

The big things he wanted to do

With the rest of his life.

He wanted to write a novel,

A fictional one based on the

Different faces she wore.

His heart beat faster

His voice louder than ever before

The birds, the trees and even the moon

took notice.

Then she was gone.

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