Apopillon

They arrived with furtive steps, with soft steps, your 10 years.

Already 10 years for me, finally 10 years for you.

Your name carries within it these two wings which flap and seek to open, to escape your silk chrysalis.

You have in you the red blood of passion, the one that flows in our respective veins, but also the red fusion of our love, that of the volcano that burns in us.

Your wings, still clumsy, although slender, cling to and seek a passage to unfold more every day.

I know it, they will free themselves and, damn day, you will fly away ...

It's still just a game for you, a treasure hunt, a comedy that takes place in the red and black curtains of your intimate theater…

I see it in your eyes ...

But that day will come and with my love I will be near you,

my Apolline,

my beautiful Appolonia my love to me ...

Text by Jean-Pierre Montagné