POEMES et POETES

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Si j’étais !

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Si j’étais le bateau fou
qui fend le flot furieux,
je changerais l’amer en doux
et le soldat en amoureux.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Si j’étais la flamme-fleur
qui lèche les chenêts,
je donnerais de ma chaleur
au mendiant qui meurt gelé.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Si j’étais prunelle d’or
je brûlerais d’un seul regard,
toute la haine qui reste encore
plantée dans l’homme comme un dard.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Si j’étais mère la terre
il n’y aurait plus d’orphelins,
et jamais le mot " guerre "
ne rimerait avec destin.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Mais je ne suis qu’un petit cœur
qui, un matin s’est refroidi
et qui, depuis, dans sa douleur
pleure et meurt à l’infini.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     (Merci à l' auteure) :  Colette Roux