Barcelona Sandals [Poetry]

Standing in the Andorra snow
shivering in our Barcelona sandals.
Glad of a lift down to Foix
as darkness was falling.
And the driver knew a hotel,
Hotel du Centre.
Very grand
and full
of people looking down
long noses.
But the driver knew the owner
who was a kind man,
a nice man.
So we shouldn’t worry
about the cost, he said.

A lovely room
and in the morning,
breakfast!
We must eat
the owner said.
Warm bread and jam.
Coffee with hot milk
which tasted sour.
But I don’t like
the taste of milk,
anyway,
so most likely
it was sweet.

And then the bill.
But there was no bill.
Save it for the journey,
the owner said.
A kind man,
a nice man,
who believed
the driver’s story,
whatever it was.

A few years later,
we returned to Foix
and went to find
Hotel du Centre.
But it wasn’t there.
No one knew it.
It didn’t exist.
Did it ever exist?
Did any of it happen?
Or did we somehow
share
a memory
from our
imaginations.

By Lynn White – Blaenau Ffestiniog, Wales – UK

Image by Adrian Balea from Pixabay

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