Quand j’étais jeune
the leaves sprang bright and
green from every branch
sparkling in the spring sun
Et maintenant
the leaves fall red, yellow
and museum blue
from each knotty limb
Quand j’étais jeune
dashing like a gazelle
across the trafficked boulevard
catching the bus as it paused
Et maintenant
waving a cane of oak
cursing the huffing diesel
standing behind and alone
Quand j’étais jeune
the femme avec les yeux
smiled like an amused cat
purred and waited
Et maintenant
like an irritated crow
the femme squawks
and flies away
Quand j’étais jeune
my head filled with fantasy
Et maintenant
there is only the menace of silence