milanese waltz / marie flore

marie

marie flore was a small girl of ten whom i met in the south end of france

stepping out of a crowd was the daughter of someone with flowers for me

we were friends at a glance

she spoke no english but sat by my side in the car

and pointed out places en route to the village of arles

marie

marie flore came to table that night as i dined in an ancient hotel

the room was all fitted with things from the seventeenth century and they suited her well

she would eat nothing but sat in her chair like a queen

and laughed at my french but seemed always to know what i mean

marie

marie flore came to hear me that night when i sang for the people of arles

she stood back in the shadows of a ruined arena

her frame in my mind was never too far

in the rush that did follow

i found she was holding my hand

and ushering me through an evening the elders had planned

marie

marie flore

i will always remember your eyes

your smile

and your grace

the gold that flowed with your laughter remain to enlighten the image i have of your face

for i have seen children whose faces are wiser than time

and you

my marie

are most certainly one of that kind

marie

marie flore

all the odds say i'll see you again

by plan or by chance

but if not

you'll be there when i'm dreaming of rain over paris

or sun in the south end of france

marie

marie

marie flore.