A flutter of pigeon wings

Trip’s the cogs of reflection

The smell of Paris

Under a September sun

From a leftover summer

~

We pause on the Rue Dante

Laughing at the cracked bell

From the old church of Saint-Severin

A ruptured call to morning Matins

Discordant in the quarter peal

~

This rose bud of attraction

Given so little time to flower

We cling to time

Clutching togetherness

Begrudging the passing hours

~

There was a time

As you spoon played your coffee

Bright eyes, softened

Calling for love

I looked away

~

The resting place of the Little Sparrow

We lay roses on the black marble

Sadness in the crying clouds

I take you in my arms

And kiss away the tears.
Non, je ne regrette rien