Rebecca – a poem

Tribute to Daphne du Maurier’s gothic novel of the same name.

 

The rustle of her ballgown,
her footsteps in the hall,
the scent of white azalea
says Rebecca’s come to call.

She lingers in the valley,
and on the twilit stair;
she drifts unseen and silent,
but I know Rebecca’s there.

She was in the watching portraits –
she haunted me, and then
she danced in the inferno
with a whispered Je reviens…

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