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L'Enfant du Soleil

  I met you in Paris, in a roadside cafe,
  You were still all together, and you were doing okay.
  The lake, it reflected your sparkling eyes.
  Your hair was as gold as the sun in the skies. 
  You told me your name was L'enfant du Soleil,
  That you played sweet guitar, and you lived by the day,
  You stayed on the ground, but your home was the sky.
  Your wings they were graceful, but you still feared to fly.

  When I left in the fall, you were finding your way.
  You were singing the words you had so longed to say.
  And now I've returned, I don't even know why,
  You've changed since the day that I last said goodbye.

  Your hair doesn't shine now, your eyes have turned gray, 
  Your guitar you no longer remember to play,
  You've gotten to the clouds, though the sight makes me cry. 
  For forgotten were your wings when you took to the sky.

©1976 Karla Tipton