Some times it`s worth re-posting a poem for the sake of
 the (true) story of how it came to be written:

The young poet had been widowed early and was sitting
with his responsibilities wondering how on earth he was
going to carry on when an envelope tumbled through his
 letter-box and he found he had been invited to a twenty
- first birthday party...Well, he went and this (written from
the bottom of a very grateful heart) Is what came from it.

 

COLETTE

 

You ask who Colette is?
That`s her over there.
With the joy-shimmer light in her eye and cropped flame for her hair.

Look at her dancing!
At the style and the grace
In the buckle and bend and the sway of her to the tune`s pace.

Did you see? when she smiled then,
How her teeth`s even white
Shone like the edge of Ice-fairyland in the sun`s light?

Why do I praise her?
Part because it`s her due.
And part that she did me a kindness once – Out of the blue

She came to me, trustingly,
When my spirit was stark.
And we laughed and we kissed and made whimsy-love out in the dark.

I can still hear her laughter,
Ricochet round the square,
Clear as a mingle of mountain-bells through the crisp air.

That`s when I loved her first.
I`m in love with her yet.
Anyway, you asked, and I`ve told you now – that`s Colette!