Lost Dreams

Eyes so thoughtful and sad

seem far away from the bar.

Thinks of hopes she once had,

then so close, now so far

Dreams of her country home,

of lavender fields in bloom,

the village church’s dome,

days of play in the combe.

She cannot go back again

to admit that she’s failed.

To walk down that old lane

where Mama wept and wailed.

Paris streets, grim and grey,

offer no help nor rest.

She longs to run away,

far from a man’s behest.

She feels the hard, grey stone,

under her fingers cold.

She’d have to take a loan

her bangle, her only gold.

She hears the noisy crowd,

can smell the sweat and wine,

listens to voices, drunk, loud,

but of hope, never a sign.

Sarah Das Gupta

Inspired by ‘A Bar at the Folies Bergere’ Edouard Manet 1882

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sarah Das Gupta is a poet from Cambridge UK who has taught English in India, Tanzania and UK. She started writing aged 80, after a disabling accident. Her work has been published in over 25 countries in magazines and anthologies. She has been nominated for Best of the Net, The Pushcart and a Dwarf Star.