I Wish I Could Speak In French

I wish I could speak in French, Speak like I’m always in love. Just let the words fly. Fly out from my mouth. Fly out like a newly freed dove. I’d say vous êtes la belle rivière dans mon rêve, You’re the beautiful river in my dream. We could talk all day about nothing at all, I’d be the boat and you’d be my stream. Even the numbers un, deux, trois, Would make learning maths sound mega sensual. I bet the kids at school would learn every multiple, Learn them with each little decimal. But the odd thing is that half of our language, to me, Seems already stolen from France. Words like harmony, rhythm, surreal and portrait. Words like montage, cubism and dance. So maybe it’s not the words themselves, That make for a delightful lovely chat. But rather it’s how they're said, spoken, and woven, Sounding like music or just sounding flat. So next time I meet my friends at a coffee shop, And talk about rivers, music and art. I can keep it in mind that it’s not what is said, But that it is said from my heart.