Besançon

Let them roll the pictures on the screen –
old mixed with the new, bridges crossed by branded feet;
project three days on a face that wants a lifetime –
ancient walls under the singing bells of a chapel,
the Sunday wind sewing a vintage dress over a prayer,
hand in hand and one horizon at the end of the day.

He’ll repeat the lines until they sink in deep
“Give me something good to dream about
So I can finally go to sleep”