On this single bed
the love of loved ones
dead for years
and lovers never born
At night I fly to heaven
(sometimes France)

Deeper than the sun
in waxen shades of green
an offering by hands unseen
of oranges

Reflections of the morning sky
on rivers lie, a woven life
that swims and flies in light

Through these broken days
the love of loved ones softly singing
ringing in my ears
soothing me

The candlelight and murmured psalms
of Notre Dame
awaken to the breaking Easter dawn

Life wakes into day
the dead awake to dreams that linger
bringing on the dark
At night I fly to heaven
(sometimes France)

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