Paris, My Love

I've traveled quite a bit - something for which I feel very thankful. I've seen so many amazing things and heard so many amazing stories of this world's history. I actually wish I had've blogged all my travel experiences as there's so much I've forgotten.

I very much revere some songwriter's ability to paint a vivid and interesting picture of a city, or a story, or of a person, or all the above together. I recently spent 3 weeks in Paris staying with my friend Allison Newman (if you're reading Alli - again, thanks so much for having me) and today I've tried to paint a picture of the town, based around my many experiences there.

Paris, My Love

Ushered by the will of some almighty hand
I walk with the green and bronze busts of Rodin
Many eyes watch me lie but they make no demand

Peeking out above the old buildings I find
Our father watching over us, stoic but kind
But now we must choose the right colour of line

Doors open, doors close, loud boys now distract
Amuse, annoy, plastic cup props in the act
Leaving silence, and an old man with contempt still intact

Tight jeans to be followed, or flowing fancy dress
Soon find you on a path of continued digress
But in Paris, my love, there's no need for duress.

When our father can't see then Our Lady we pass
And make our way winding to Montmartre's paths
Tie a finger, cut a face, stroke the feet of Degas

Le bois d'amour, but much more than you expect
Rolling past pleasant children, find a place to reflect
And watch history pass by like a wall bound insect

So pungent a smell could so many things be
While soon father lights himself up like a tree
For so many this is all that they've come here to see

But next time, dear Paris, I'll lay my love down with thee