Charvet David
David Charvet
French passport
crossing the border
every time I say to myself
in a foreign language
what am I doing here
but when the plane descends
over Roissy
all I feel
is beautiful like a gray sky
crossing the border
returning from Italy
from the depths of England
or the United States
crossing the border
each time I tell myself
that my accent is getting lost
but I never forget
my French passport
an address in Paris
a café on the quays
br/>an old bakery
my French passport
the first name of a friend
a girl I loved
a garden in the rain
crossing the border
I see my school again
my mother's smile
pigeons flying away
one birthday evening
ten candles
crossing the border
I never left
my French passport
to L.A. or elsewhere
its color spoke to me
always on the side of the heart
my French passport
the first name of a friend
a girl who I loved
a garden in the rain
br/>my French passport
an address in Paris
a café on the quays
an old bakery
my French passport
from the country of my father
as he told me
will have no border
my French passport

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