PARIS :: dusk

Freezing cold winds bite at
My dry and cracked hands,
My shoes crunch pebbles
On streets of sand.
Beneath bright moonlight
In glimmering dusk
I sit on a side bench,
Green fading into rust.

Streetlamps light the way
Of weary travellers who stay
Out in the chilly autumn breeze
By the river, under trees.

The Eiffel tower looms again
Over the skyline, shining
I sit still with a pen in hand,
My thoughts awhirl, pining.
Pink and orange cling to skies
Of an ever-constant blue
Traffic queues on avenues
Then rumble off down every rue.

Night falls and Paris glows
Hushed for a spectacular show.
The runners run, the lovers kiss,
And poets sit and reminisce.

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