Paris Calling

the night began without you
lilting, dreaming, reading fantasies
a time of cleansing
then you
and songbirds couldn’t sound as charming
as when our sounds reached the streets
emulating polycarbonate
or scratching anew
but it was good
and it was true
then without you
I rediscovered beauty on my own
painting with dotted lines
slips, skips, drags
loops, arcs, lags
and I watched the water
its distance shortened by snow
drifting unfalteringly down
laying my paper
that I retraced on my way home
you missed it but
maybe it missed you?
I think it was for me
when They whispered:



Copyright L.M. 2008.


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