Mademoiselle Poem by Padmanabhan Ananth

My taxi turned sharp into Champ de Mars
The weather cool, winter yet not harsh
Fresh downpour from a passing raincloud
Had washed the street where she firmly stood

Standing there she took my breath away
For many moments 'mirage' my mind did say
Such charming sight, a treat to my eyes
Like she's been to many thousand guys

Tall not too much, lean but not anorexic
The curves, all indeed very specific
Don Henley would've sung: 'Mercedes bends, oomph! '
Though she's not German but pedigree French

Timidly into my camera, her images entered
I went back again to her, so fascinated
Well dressed the next Sunday eve
Her twinkling eyes left me breathless, whew!

They said you don't even have a right
To own a picture taken of her by night
But teeming crowds didn't seem to care
The many blinking flashbulbs didn't fear

Alas, no one could dream of owning her
And possessing her? No never ever!
Because she's the true Mademoiselle
That prodigious creature of Gustave Eiffel.