L'amour.

L’amour.

It’s peaceful this morning.

The magic hasn’t left me yet.

As day is dawning, there are those in mourning,

Speaking with regret.

It’s a strange conversation.

I don’t know all the details.

It’s the little obscurities,

That lets my imagination set sail.

And out past the blue yonder,

There speaks a wise old being.

The things she’s seen would send you green,

But she only lies when it is absolutely necessary.

Some think she’s contrary.

I just know her as Mary.

As she set her sights on the faraway sunshine,

I wish her good luck.

I’ve got love on my mind...

You see there’s a darling,

Who is wonderfully charming.

She disarms me at ease,

With a flicker of speech.

And if you listen carefully,

You will find a world of wonder.

She never blunders. She is always precise.

The look from her eyes, is to my eyes, a delight.

She simply stands out from all other beauties.

She stands there so proud.

I understand. Who wouldn’t be?

She has no arrogance to speak of,

Just a mai oui, à coup sûr, mon ami.

I would describe you her shape,

But I’ve never been a sculptor.

I’m semi-artiste. No Rene Matiesse.

Just a poet and his pen calling for a muse to inspire me.

As the sun is shining, we are wining a dining.

I’m fascinated by the tragic comedy she is describing,

Because in her words I see various versions of me.

I met her before love,

And who would have thought she would give me some?

She reached out into the desert and plucked me right up.

Now we fly high above, forever rising with no fall,

And all because,

I have found,

L’amour...

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