In The Days Of Nicole

She was French, once it was Polish, later German,
it didn't matter, as long as they weren't English,
she was engaged, as she walked along, men whistled,
revealing, in the park someone said: 'Look, no pants on.'

I was told politely to keep off the bridle path,
but nevertheless, went round for a cup of tea,
there I met Suku or maybe it was Sue Sue,
at that time you forget exactly who was who.

She played guitar, ironically above French Row,
where Nicole walked with holes in her clothes,
not from poverty but design, this friend of mine,
we had coffee at La Cassata, looked at each other.

So how was it for you? Did you know anyone French?
Or was there no fragrance in your life to remember.

Note: The lady in the picture is actually 
          a young Bridget Bardot.