I'm sitting on a bench in dear Sanary.
It's fitting that at sunset's dear flattery;
That I take in all it's bloom, and don't send me to my room,
'Cause quitting before quenched shames love's imagery.
Is it possible some way, that to live here is OK,
And I might learn French language and romance?
Is my skill still able, to show that I'm not feeble,
And can learn foreign behavior's dance?
For I've 20 years of so, before I have to go.
Want to spend them in life's love sublime.
I can think of no where, where beauty drinks with such care;
Where inspiration paints, writes, sings and rhymes.
But what about the puppies? Kitties, goats and love squeeze?
And our life in sunny California?
There have a grand studio, that I demand to go;
And don't want to forsake Psychodrama.
And there is dear Rob, master artist, and my job;
That I hope to master over time.
My best friend, Patricia; I would sorely miss ya.
Couldn't stand much faster dying's crime.
Could I combine perchance, California and France
For a life romantic to the end?
With less at beginning, time in France spending
Until retired tired dancing sends.
Do I deserve such love? Is the question from above
That my wounded child does seem to say.
Then my big brother, Paul; rises quick to answer call.
Says: "How soon, wild child? Of course, OK."
So how can I now glean, the space that's in between;
The two kids who often rule my days?
For wisdom is beyond, my boys singing child songs.
Included but not ruled by childhood's haze.
About Inspiration's Motivation
Wednesday, 7:00 PM 9/17/97
by Loveson G. Flower
at Sanary sur Mer, France near beach
Portrait of Sanary sur Mer by Loveson G. Flower
