Marie Bleue

A poem about a woman in love with the mysterious singer by the fountain.

There was a lady named Valerie
Who loved spending her days by
The fountain in Saint Ann's Square.

She would buy a coffee and sit
On the archaic stone beneath
The mount of rose petals and

Listen to the soothing sound of
The water and the haunting
Voice of the beautiful Marie Bleue.

Marie Bleue held a captive audience
Of besotted men who swooned over her
Lavender lips and deep black locks.

But her most avid admirer
Was the blue-bobbed Valerie,
Her eyes only for the alluring Marie Bleue.

Everyday she gazed and drifted
Deeper into her weathered lullabies of
Shipwrecked vessels and tattooed lovers,

And everyday she knew the love she
Felt was unrequited as Marie Bleue
Fluttered her eyelashes at everyone but her.

Poor Valerie had nobody at home,
Not even a proud cat to pay her no mind.
And she only had eyes for Marie.

Even if the singer felt nothing for her,
It didn't matter to her, as just
To listen to her bewitching tales

Was all she needed in her life,
That and the soothing water
Of the delicate fountain of Saint Ann's Square.

One dusk while Marie was whisked away
By strong suitors with anchor tattoos
And strong rum in their veins,

Valerie stayed at her seat, unwilling
To leave the square and return home
Alone, to the silence of the house.

She wished she could forever gaze upon
Marie Bleue, and in the morning the
Busker saw her for the first time,

And stared at her in wonder
As she had never noticed the stone statue
Of a woman sitting at the fountain before.

Author: paganpages

Writer of weird fiction, lover of coffee and stories with a twist.

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