Birdsong melded
with forest fragrance,
butterflies danced
the exuberance of life
while I sipped
Chateau Le Touron,
Monbazillac.
I basked
in the warm glow
of good fortune
as a gentle breeze
blew wispy cloud
across a painter’s sky
and then she appeared
with her soft,
Mediterranean eyes
and the je ne sais quoi
of her Gallic mystique,
and reality froze
as she sang
with her angel’s voice,
“Bonjour, Monsieur.”
My mind flashed
across 50 years
to a thousand falters
that had brought me
to this moment
in this paradise
on this Earth.
“Oui, bonnie lass:
a very good day.”
with forest fragrance,
butterflies danced
the exuberance of life
while I sipped
Chateau Le Touron,
Monbazillac.
I basked
in the warm glow
of good fortune
as a gentle breeze
blew wispy cloud
across a painter’s sky
and then she appeared
with her soft,
Mediterranean eyes
and the je ne sais quoi
of her Gallic mystique,
and reality froze
as she sang
with her angel’s voice,
“Bonjour, Monsieur.”
My mind flashed
across 50 years
to a thousand falters
that had brought me
to this moment
in this paradise
on this Earth.
“Oui, bonnie lass:
a very good day.”
