
C’est une maison bleue
Accrochée à ma mémoire
On y vient à pied, on ne frappe pas
Ceux qui vivent là, ont jeté la clef
Peuplée de cheveux longs
De grands lits et de musique
Peuplée de lumière, et peuplée de fous
Elle sera dernière à rester debout
(paroles d’une chanson de Maxime Leforestier)
Like this:
Like Loading...
About atreewalker
It was a warm spring morning in the olive grove. The breeze was gentle, the air was fragrant, the time stood still. High grass, sprinkled with colourful small-headed flowers, was gently tickling my knees. Poppies were about to splash their intense red on the antic ruins. 'Look how beautiful it is all over', I whispered to the olive trees, 'a perfect time for a stroll.' I slipped my fingers into the open palms at the end of their branches and I took them for a walk.
View all posts by atreewalker
January 5th, 2012 at 3:41 pm
your travel photos are so inspiring!
wanderlust-tess.blogspot.com
January 5th, 2012 at 3:59 pm
Thanks, Tess, I’m happy to hear it ! Soon there will be more to come :)