Beautiful

I remember when you were a little boy.
You would rise up early on a Sunday morning and go for a swim.
I do not know how to swim.
The boys would come by the house to get you.
And your father would walk you all to the banks of the Seine.
Father was never faithful to us.
And he would give you boys careful instruction
telling you just how far to swim out.
He certainly never instructed.
And now, look across there, in the distance
all those beautiful trees cut down for a foolish tower.
I do not think there were ever trees there.
How I loved the view from here.
Changing
I'm quite certain that was an open field.
It keeps changing
I used to play there as a child.
I see towers
Where there were trees
Going
All the stillness
The solitude
Georgie
Sundays
Disappearing
All the time
When things were beautiful
All things are beautiful
Mother
All trees, all towers
Beautiful
That tower
Beautiful, mother
See?
A perfect tree
Pretty isn't beautiful, mother
Pretty is what changes
What the eye arranges
Is what is beautiful
Fading
I'm changing
You're changing
It keeps fading
I'll draw us now before we fade
Mother
It keeps melting
Before our eyes
You watch
While I revise the world
Changing
As we sit here
Quick, draw it all
Georgie
Sundays
Disappearing
As we look
Look! Look!
You make it beautiful
Oh, Georgie, how I long for the old view.