Blank canvases anticipate,
A palette board crusted with colour,
Bouquets of scruffy brushes,
He paints his thoughts with bold strokes.
Threadbare ballet slippers,
A program GISELLE faded and torn.
In another life she looked down,
And watched the street from 9 rue Fonteneau
Velvets crushed by memories,
A crystal goblet ruby red with wine,
She dreams of a snow shrouded dacha.
A courtly gentleman,
Silver walking stick,
The Pearl Fishers fills the room with music.
Forgotten memories recalled,
Words written deep into the night.
WHO LIVES UPSTAIRS?
(When you walk down Queen Street West, in Toronto - look up. Who lives upstairs?)