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.

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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.

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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.

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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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