Milanese Waltz/Marie Flore

Marie, Marie Flore was a small
Girl of ten whom
I met in the south end of France
Stepping out of a crowd was the daughter
Of someone with flowers for me
We were friends at a glance
She spoke no English but sat by
My side in the car
And pointed out places en route
To the village of Arles

Marie, Marie Flore came to table that night
As I dined in an ancient hotel
The room was all fitted with things from the
Seventeenth century and they suited her well
She would eat nothing but sat in
Her chair like a queen
And laughed at my French but seemed
Always to know what I mean

Marie, Marie Flore came to hear me that night
When I sang for the people of Arles
She stood back in the shadows
Of a ruined arena
Her frame in my mind was never too far
In the rush that did follow
I found she was holding my hand
And ushering me through an evening
The elders had planned
Marie, Marie Flore, I will always
Remember your eyes, your smile
And your grace the gold that flowed with
Your laughter remain to
Enlighten the image I have of your face
For I have seen children whose
Faces are wiser than time and you, my Marie
Are most certainly one of that kind
Marie, Marie Flore, all the odds
Say I'll see you again, by plan or by chance
But if not, you'll be there when
I'm dreaming of rain over Paris
Or sun in the south end of France
Marie, Marie, Marie Flore