In my mind I am in their garden –
my dear friends in Auxerre who will be
grieving so much at the terror they
face and puzzled by our desertion.
In my mind I look for Caroline
the tortoise searching the undergrowth
like her for a ripe apricot from
their wonderful délicieux tree –
le goût of which is surely unique
In my mind I am walking out with
them to buy some pain each fine morning
to eat pour le petit dejeuner.
A good habit which I grew to love.
In my mind I think of the ties that
bind us, remembering happy times
when our children played together in
their teens and later visits which still
continue as we all grow older.
But now I find they no longer walk
to buy their daily bread. Last time
I visited they gave me sweet brioche
to break my fast … and nowadays their
supermarché sells English cut loaves.
In my mind when La Marsellaise
is played, I sing it too and weep a
tear for their awful predicament.
How can we leave them now and pretend
that we are not part of one another?