PARIS :: beneath the tower

A scene from a dream
Shines before me,
Rising up towards the heavens,
Holding up the clouds,
Glowing gold against the
Pink and orange sky.


A cacophony of sounds,
Multi-lingual chatter,
Bursts or laughter in the crowd
Swarming towards the tower like
Fireflies towards a flame
Looking towards heaven with bated breath.


Lively music hops into my ear,
The moon peaks out from behind
As the sky fades into darkened dusk.
The city settles down,
Uncoils, releases a breath,
All eyes on the shining symbol.


Streetlights glimmer in the dusk.
The Eiffel Tower is molten gold,
Its beams spin into the night.
People dance beneath the stars
Or gather in flocks on grass
To witness a dream come true.

[Written 16/8/16 in Trocadero, Paris. The photos show the transition of the Eiffel tower from dusk to nightfall. While I was writing this poem, a woman looked over and noticed, and we chatted for a short while. This was the first time anyone had ever spoken to me because of my writing, and it was such a pleasant experience.]


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