'are you there?'
he asked...
As if he asked her
And also his mind...
The blue of Grasse
Of the vast
Ocean
Took him
There...
And also
That sky...
And
That line...
Where the sky
On ocean lied
Restive...
In peace...
In Love...
he
Looked at the towers...
The pots brick colored
Hanging from them...
he
Looked at the musical morn...
Which only city of Grasse
(Named after an admiral
Francois Joseph Paul kind-
Who fought against all...)
For any human could only turn...
And
Asked
'Are you there?'
The slope of the hill
Upon which
Those houses were built
Was silent...
Largely silent...
As if
The slope waited for long
For a query so heartful
Like that...
That museum seen...
From the cliff
Standing like a glorious past
And hope of future too...
Of art and craft...
It was silent too...
And he thought
he was such a fool...
To find answer
Of a question
Never to be asked...
And then
he closed his eyes...
Taking the whole of Grasse...
A beautiful town...
Near Nice...
One thousand metres from the sea level...
Within him...
The feel...
Of the hills...
Those flower pots hanging in the breeze...
That stony street
Where Paul Rubens set His studio hut...
That house where once Fragonard lived...
That Saracen tower...
That fete du jasmin...
A festival of perfume and flowers...
That entry gate magnificient
Of Hotel de ville...
he...
Prayed to all of them...
Closing his eyes...
By Love so entwined...
And
he heard her...
her softest murmur...
Like a morning serenade...
'Oui...'
She murmured...
'I am here...
Open your eyes...
Dear...
Open your eyes...'
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