August in Geneva:
Dance and I’ll I chant
Following you, leading you
Amongst wild feathers
And cool gusts on my back
Dance and I’ll sing
Songs whistled and clapped
Between my lips and your hands
Reminiscing a bliss of some kind
Dance and I’ll cry
And discreetly wipe my tears
As children run and scare
Pigeons cooing around us
Dance and I’ll sigh
Sheltered under giant trees
Once the clouds move away
I’ll let the sun shade your face…
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