Seated at the terrace table
Surrounded by the tongues of Babel
Where entwined Bougainvilleas splash
Their colours over pebbledash.
Outside the "Café du Progrès"
A tourist crowd spends hot Sunday
And febrile palms their branches sway
Amid this village (Bormes) perché.
A never-ending stream of cars
Threads its way between the bars
Which grace the central village square;
The locals wish they were not there!
Despite the slopes, the cyclists climb
Medieval streets of shaded lime -
The panoramic view they get
At top of hill - is worth the sweat!
Written in 1993
(c) Poet in the woods 2014