Petite Fleur, where are you tonight
Flows your hair still to your waist
And around that face of light
Petite Fleur, how I miss your delight
The breathless surprise as with eyes open bright
The gentle concern. the furious spite
These the fragments of life, my right
Petite Fleur, for this you shall live
Forever in my heart and inside my head, tonight
For these moments that cling
These mem'ries that lie
Dormant till needed, there till i die, I die
Petite Fleur, and now I must go
For my destiny is done
And my life will wait no more, no more
Words to eponymous number of Sydney Bechet.
For daughter Kayte (aka 'Flower')
Respect Mr. Bechet. Hope you don't mind. R.I.P.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem