David BowieRemembering Marie A.

It was a day in that blue month septemberSilent beneath the plum trees’ slender shadeI held her thereMy love, so pale and silentAs if she were a dream that must not fadeAbove us in the shining summer heavenThere was a cloud my eyes dwelled long uponIt was quite white and very high above usThen I looked upAnd found that it had goneAnd since that day, so many moons in silenceHave swum across the sky and gone belowThe plum trees surely have been chopped for firewoodAnd if you ask, how does that love seem nowI must admit, I really can’t rememberAnd yet I know what you are trying to sayBut what her face was like, I know no longerI only know I kissed it on that dayAs for the kiss, I long ago forgot itBut for the cloud that floated in the skyI know that still and shall forever know itIt was quite white and moved in very highIt may be that the plum trees still are bloomingThat woman’s seventh child may now be thereAnd yet that cloud had only bloomed for minutesWhen I looked upIt vanished on the air
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