Day 1: Nimes, France

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

Where the long paths, and grass begin

In a quiet city in the south of France

A roman garden of fountains, and plants

The men skip by, with flowers

The women lay on the grass, pass the hours

.

Let us leave this place where no one works

Back down the sidewalk of kitchen tiles

Past fresh sandwiches, and skateboarders by the church

We shall walk to the train station, the tangled network

marching to the sounds of the bells of St. Giles

past benches, and fountains where the pigeons perch

.

But you’re not here, so I’ll walk there alone on the last day

A bright sunny, French day in May

not looking back, but thinking of Hemingway

To the place where the sidewalk ends

.

Emily Keeter