| |  |     
 I Could
FlyI drempt when I was littleI could fly
 By
thundering down the sidewalk
 Flapping hard
 Until the air beneath
me
 Scuttled by
 And I was half a mile
 Above our yard.
 I
couldn't see the futureThrough the trees
 Or know the other
dreams
 That would come true:
 Pink Elephants in Paris
 What a
tease --
 Yet, here we are -- Voila!
 Merci 
Beaucoup!
 
 	 | 
 
		 |  | Getting To
ThereGoing from here andGetting to
there --
 We're all of us going
 And
getting somewhere
 We're all of us
travelers
 With stories to share
 While
we're going from here
 And getting to
there.
 
 	 | 
 
		 |  | In the ParkThere
are pigeonsIn the park
 And people
 In the park
 And
people
 Feeding pigeons
 In the park.
 There are children
 In
the park
 And parents
 In the park
 And pigeons
 Who are
parents
 In the
park.
 
 
					
	 	 | 
 
		 |  | Sour GrapesSour
grapes?Ils sont tres mavais.
 And very bad
 To eat
 They
say:
 Ils sont tres mavais a
manger.
 
 
						
		 | 
 
		 |  | What's Your Favorite
Word?What's your favorite wordIn French?
 Qui? Moi?
Quelqefois.
 Sometimes
 It's my favorite word.
 Other
times
 I like Pourquois.
 Why do you
likePourquois?
 I don't know,
 Je ne sais
pas.
 
	  | 
 
		 |  | It's NightIt's night in
FranceAnd the stars are out
 And no little children
 Run
about
 But in America
 Far away
 It's bright and noisy --
 A
busy day.
 
	 | 
 | |  | A Bowl of Hot
ChocolateA bowl of hot chocolateFor dipping my bread
 And
croissants, more bread
 With jam.
 We must be in Paris
 Eating a
breakfast
 that's tres Parisienne.
 
 
  | 
 
  |  | 
 
 
 In quaint
cafesIn little chairsCustomers sit
 Like teddy bears
 All
in rows
 All side by side,
 Watching the people
 Passing by.
 I
take a picture of them
 Then I scratch my head
 And wonder
why.
 | 
     back to top|  | 
 
  
 So Many ThingsSo many thingsWe've yet to
say
 Decisions hard to make --
 Rebecca's famous
 French
dessert
 Marie's "Let them eat cake!"
 Getting caughtOut in the
rain
 And jugglers
 In the square.
 Sunday morning
 At Notre
Dame
 And all that
 Goes on there.
 Sandwiches packedFull of
fries
 And Lisa's Dr. Pepper
 Bread and Cheese
 At Erzi's house
--
 More bread and cheese
 For supper.
 Tapestries of
unicornsSculptures by Picasso
 August Rodin
 And Sacre
Coeur
 On the hill
 At nightfall.
 A novel readBy
Hemingway
 A birthday celebration --
 Who knows
 Where things will
lead
 When we give in
 To
inspiration?
 
 | 
 |  |