Proust at Balbec

Your consent for a walk
absorbs your already made speech
and room waiting
for an entombed key
at the front desk
of the Grand Hotel
when everything
in gesture’s memory
is on hold
until you arrive
on the right date
to explore all coastal wonders
by the sea resort.

When your nerves catch you
in a hesitant sun
slipping near windows
by first light
near the Japanese print
effacing fears of childhood
by the apple trees of a new Eden
with grandmother
close by on the coverlet
gazing at the sky and flowers,
haunting your journey
in adjacent footprints of exuberance
you want to race along the sea.

But, Marcel, remember to take
your light umbrella in case of rain.