Chez Vous
My dearest love,
Speaking metaphoric’ly,
You are a home to me,
And so I serenade you thus:
Your rooms have special charms;
The chairs all seem to wait with open arms,
Chez vous.
And floating here and there,
Intriguing strains of music fill the air,
Chez vous.
Your windows face the east;
Your plants enjoy the feast,
And flowers show their faces
In unexpected places.
Your atmosphere is warm.
In short, I find my port in any storm
Chez vous.
The television screen
Is always fastened firmly to Thirteen,
Chez vous.
And here’s a precious boon:
The piano’s always perfectly in tune,
Chez vous.
The Rigaud candle burns,
The Calder mobile turns,
The sofa seems to beckon,
The kitchen sings of schnecken.
So vast is your appeal,
Nowhere do I feel
More at home . . .
Than I do . . .
Chez vous.
Sheldon Harnick