Under that Eiffel tower they stood
re-affirming their love for each other,
after marriage vows and wedding bells
by the Arc de Troimphe they drove,
by the church of Notre Dame de Paris
promises they made again
that never ever would they separate;
friends watched them kiss, sing and dance
as wine glasses got re-filled,
new dawn, new world awaited them
as tomorrows would take them
thro' all the avenues of love and life
in that city called Paris -
a city full of love and life
where joie de vivre never ceases;
how could they expect to part
by death, by cruel fate
when a bomb exploded
and their hearts forgot to beat.
And as they stopped breathing
their dreams turned into flowers
that friends placed upon their bodies;
how could they die
in that street, in that cafe,
in their own city
where they laughed with friends
and loved each other more
over a coffee, over a quarrel
yet they went home holding hands,
remembering Paris was their city
a city of love and life
and endless joie de vivre.
Yes lost in the big story is the personal story, the loss, the pain, the paradox and ugly raw reality of innocents torn from their dream. I read your poem apprehensive knowing all too well where it may lead, that is a tribute to your keen ability to personalize the tragedy.Over coffee or a quarrel yet they went home holding hands, her with her scarf and him with his content smile, bumping elbows, side by side down the avenue. Wonderfully sad poem....10
Edmund, thanks for your comment! You write nice poem, I liked the gypsy, the grace, the exotic maiden. Too good!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great write. I enjoyed reading. Our hearts is reaching out to the City of Paris as we mourn all those innocent victims.
Thanks Godfrey. I like your poem- 7 continents!