Saturday, June 7, 2014

The swing, the pool, the gardens

A friend is taking off, has written me about it. A family trip to France. 

I wish to be in his family, now. 

I am, though perhaps only he knows. He and me.

He describes taking his daughters and wife to Paris, letting them run loose on the Louvre, and Versailles.

He, shopping for wines in the daytime, peacefully resting in the gardens, napping. 

Traveling South along romantic paths in the land.

... hope swings wild, backyard
above the trees 

the mistral winds still find, 
never let me be