you chagall

©Chagall

Your hand

flowers

in the spring

Your hair

fall

in the autumn

You are

both

the tree and the true,

not the truth

You are

the hand of yours

and

you are

your hair,

you 're

the spring itself
and

the autumn that

comes over.

I'll call your name at

a

cocktail party

and

you will accept a dance with me

and I will spoil my gin & tonic on you

and I will apologize till the dawn,

till the death

, oh

you dawn

, you death.

Your hand

shows the direction of your skin.

Your hair be the wind.
You be

the tree that stands

and you are

the true

, but

you are

not the truth.