Bayou Flower
She wanted to be a flower, born in the Bayou out of Cajun melodies.
Formed by the touch of violin strings,
uplifted by the voice of the bandoneon,
unfolded by the gentle embrace of the guitar sound.
She gathers sadness in her petals; longing, lost loves and kisses.
She dreams in the shade of ancient life oaks where lichen veils dance on the rhythm of a song brought on the river by the wind.
Her red rims are wounds of 'saudade' and burn bronze in the evening sun.
She grows transparent with light, her heart filled with possible worlds.
Formed by the touch of violin strings,
uplifted by the voice of the bandoneon,
unfolded by the gentle embrace of the guitar sound.
She gathers sadness in her petals; longing, lost loves and kisses.
She dreams in the shade of ancient life oaks where lichen veils dance on the rhythm of a song brought on the river by the wind.
Her red rims are wounds of 'saudade' and burn bronze in the evening sun.
She grows transparent with light, her heart filled with possible worlds.
