Beautiful

I remember when you were a little boy.

You would rise up early on a Sunday morning and go for a swim.

I do not know how to swim.

The boys would come by the house to get you.

And your father would walk you all to the banks of the Seine.

Father was never faithful to us.

And he would give you boys careful instruction

telling you just how far to swim out.

He certainly never instructed.

And now, look across there, in the distance

all those beautiful trees cut down for a foolish tower.

I do not think there were ever trees there.

How I loved the view from here.

Changing

I'm quite certain that was an open field.

It keeps changing

I used to play there as a child.

I see towers

Where there were trees

Going

All the stillness

The solitude

Georgie

Sundays

Disappearing

All the time

When things were beautiful

All things are beautiful

Mother

All trees, all towers

Beautiful

That tower

Beautiful, mother

See?

A perfect tree

Pretty isn't beautiful, mother

Pretty is what changes

What the eye arranges

Is what is beautiful

Fading

I'm changing

You're changing

It keeps fading

I'll draw us now before we fade

Mother

It keeps melting

Before our eyes

You watch

While I revise the world

Changing

As we sit here

Quick, draw it all

Georgie

Sundays

Disappearing

As we look

Look! Look!

You make it beautiful

Oh, Georgie, how I long for the old view.