scent of a rose (haibun)

©Clr'15
©Clr’15

She brushes her hair with her brush, the one with the ivory handle, Papa brought her on his last trip. Staring into the mirror she makes faces like she did when she was a child. How she loved playing this game with Papa. They would take turns making faces and the other had to guess who or what they were imitating. For her it was usually insects or birds and that was where she got her nickname. Papa always called her, “Ma petite Luciole, you are the light of my life.”

Five years have passed since then but she wonders if l’avarice has taken over her Papa, she has started to call monsieur l’étourneau.  He says he is still looking for that special treasure and when he finds it, he will return for good. She looks out at the birdfeeder near her bedroom window. She huffs out of frustration. That starling is stealing all the seeds again…such a greedy little thing it can be!

She misses her Papa and especially since her Maman died in childbirth three years ago. She still has a difficult time to be happy around la petite Colibri. They nicknamed her after hearing her moan in her bed at night putting herself to sleep. Pauvre petite Colibri, she thought. She had the same emerald green eyes of Maman.  How she craved for the long ago laughter of her Papa.

They had all they needed, she reasoned. Her father had inherited le Manoir des Chèvrefeuilles as well as their maison de campagne in Marseilles when maman passed and yet…

She would write to him later this afternoon, she thought, gazing at her silver pheasant feather quill pen. She would ask Colibri to paint a huge soleil to bring Papa back home soon. She sighs and drapes the silk lavender shawl over her bare shoulders and runs down for le petit dejeuner sur la terasse with her Grandmaman and sister.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/82464638/silver-pheasant-feather-quill-pen-for
https://www.etsy.com/listing/82464638/silver-pheasant-feather-quill-pen-for

Searching for scents
no fragrance compares
this lonely silk road

© Tournesol ’15/11/15

Carpe Diem The Silk Road

Translations:

luciole = firefly
avarice= greed
étourneau = starling
colibri = hummingbird
maison de campgagne = country home

Advertisements

25 Replies to “scent of a rose (haibun)”

    1. Thanks I liked the idea of long ago having a parent buy me treasures but like I told my friend, I think adding the death may be my subconscious getting ready for the year anniversary of my mother’s passing

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Janice, I don’t know why I added that death part…I may be getting ready for the one year anniversary of mom soon. Sending you warm hugs to you and your family.

      Like

    1. Thanks, Hamish. Our writing is often influenced by our environment…I remember seeing a single rose lain at the site of the shooting in Paris. That rose stayed with me

      Like

      1. I felt tongue tied in haiku for the past few days and last night “in the darkest hour” haunted me all night…no kidding and woke up to so many haiku I will be posting more later. It’s all or nothing:)

        Like

Your comments are like sunflowers beaming at me:Vos commentaires sont des sourires des Tournesols

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s