Midnight in Paris

(Tomorrow Willow and I will have been engaged for two years! So, I though I’d share again my memories of our beautiful Paris adventure… Now we only have to wait eight months until the wedding…)

Paris in the spring time
with you by my side
walking along the left bank
hand in hand, Soul in soul,
with each step our hearts grew
together, mingling
to a point of aching.

Your smile lit the night,
an echo of the lights that dance
across the buildings and shadows
of the ville de l’amour;
the rouge windmill turns
and with it the Parisian nightly waltz
plays down each street
from Montmartre to Montparnasse.

Hemingway and Fitzgerald
walked the streets that we gently
stroll. The spirits of poets
and writers mirror each kiss we make,
each breath we take,
each side ways glance
to make sure this moment is real.

Pont de l’Archevêché shines
with the hopes and rendezvous
of those who dare to dream
of forever. Like us, they love
with a fire that only Paris
knows. We place our lock
and kiss the key, Throwing it
into the dark calm waters
of our memories.

We stop and lean against the preponderance
A thousand, thousand locks
call out with their immortal cries, je t’aime.
Street lamps lights the river
as Notre Dame rings out
it’s midnight Chorus, je t’aime.
Midnight in Paris.
Our song begins and weaves,
semblance of the Seine.

I don’t get down on one knee,
the big gesture would do nothing
but embarrass you. I know
you too well for that. But I
look into your eyes, your soul,
my breath taken again.
Your smile reflects the night,
the love. And we love!

Maybe not forever, but in that moment
A single second can last forever,
yet fades in the silence of the bells.
The ghost of Fitzgerald laughs to Hemingway
and speaks with jazz in its song
“Our live are defined
by opportunities,
even the ones we miss.”


© Phen Weston, 2014


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