Paris Days

Paris is a feeling; it’s an emotion
It’s about the person your with
It’s about the love of art
Like being in a painting,
With the one you love.

Paris could be anywhere
As long as you are in love
Paris nourishes the body
And feeds the soul.

Paris is the taste of romance,
Tongue-tip teasing, weaving
Making love and sipping wine
Until the morning hour.

Hues of velvet chocolate welcomes
Pastry and oh goodness…
Paris is meant to devour you.

All the while,
I sit and marvel, and wander
With my thirsty, hungry thoughts,
About today’s spicy selection,
The café latte, you, else is nought.

Smiles and our laughter
Looking out widows
From our room, smoke in the air;
When we made love there.

Feasting on baguette and croissant,
You were born to France’s best,
I relish in the finest,
Savouring your essence and digest.

Over the bustle, hustle, shifting,
The car horns beeping in the street,
Cafe’s so full, no breakfast today
Artisan on corner, swaying, playing
The arousing tune.

Music pulses throughout the night
The noises stir my senses until noon
Overwhelmed with sweet French
Flavours and you.

Fleeting apparition to the Louvre
It’s that we be both adore!
Drawings, sculptures, prints
And paintings so stunning,
It’s the art that’s so captivating,
Hiding secrets behind soft smiles, Mona Lisa steals my heart.

Still, so much magic
Meant to enchant me,
With eyes that move,
You are my king and artist
Where love made us immortal,
In the confines of the Louvre.

Tears, symbolic of sad parting,
Venus envied this jewel of Europe,
So alluring, proclaiming affections
Making me your love of all time
So surely above all,
I’ll miss those moments
Slow, seductive, the River,
The aroma dancing
When you sing your gypsy songs.

Still I sit for hour-long,
Under your love, presenting proud,
While you sketch impressions of me
Writing of my features to the crowd.
Onward down the paved streets
Marching, past her beauty,
You even speak French to everyone
Communicating so eloquently.

Paris with each step,
I’m in awe, inhaling French culture
Cast in a stone,
A slave to its passion
With gilded wings all around me.
Capturing the day’s charm forever,
Engraved in my memory of
Paris by day or night.

I love you, Jim Bob.