Lambs, already round and almost oven-ready, run away in short bursts of independence then rush back to the safety of oiled woollen flanks. I hold you close.

Stability a platform
wedge-shaped in the rashness,
l'écho d'un cri.

Your face, once pastel-pretty, now glowers with disdain and hatred then dissolves into a violent mass of heated tears. You draw apart.

Storms raging outside
the core of darkness,
l'explosion des larmes.

Where is the sweetness which we felt? When did you change? I claw at the solid substance of memories as they dissolve into droplets of regret. You fall, ripe, from my tree.

People must have children
to wrap in a mantle of peace.
Une petite poire tombée.




Vocab: One can guess the meaning of most of the French words. des larmes - tears(noun), Une poire - a pear,
tombée - fallen.