Still Paris


Why is it France that sometimes beckons me

Paris whispers, I  wave, and she cries,

Listening to sounds of her calling us back

Waves of leaving never needing to say goodbye

A last smile before into the oceans crept,

Like waters blanketing tears that she wept

Rushing forth but not without a trace,

With you there, I first saw your beautiful face,

Keeping in mind that when I forget 

That I, long ago, Paris is where

I first fell in love with you there.

Paris still whispers, for we were there. 

14 thoughts on “Still Paris

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s