Mougins

Doubtful that the old renown
Could help us any longer
Suspect world of disasters
And telephone wires etched
Against the sky
Disconsolate nights
Relinquish whatever was
Good and gorgeous worth
Remembering or waking up
For once more;
The lavender writhes
And capitulates under the
Pounding of the storm
The stars could not help
Us any longer the hills
In their splendour or
Views of the sea;
Cruel abysses forests and
Tempests gardens all of
Them conspired against
Us each of them lived
Longer than our visit there
And any meaningless
Laughter we had was
Washed into another
Place where he can open
His eyes and smile
And run with us once more.