^{Dedicated to a cute girl I once saw while waiting for a plane…}

Mornings may be cold in France
planes are sometimes late to part
nothing really troubles you,
Agnes, how do you do!

Are you going home?
someone dear is waiting you…
how long has it been,
did you miss them dearly too?

Agnes, I have seen you do,
I’ve staged conversations
with the left side of your left eye,
my dreams flew far with you…

And I’ve seen your hands
the signs are written there;
what’s the image in your mind,
is it beauty that is kind?

Mornings may be frozen cold
planes keep running pretty late,
I wish you flowers on a Sunday
and to hold your lover’s hand…