Paris And The Stroller Poem by Ailla Rut

The carnage is still
In the breath of morning
But the embers of life
Are solace to screaming pain

Yesterday a mynah was bobbing its head
With the bright yellow mask
To sing of rainbow petals

As the notes reach the shrouded Eiffel Tower
La Marseillaise resound in unison
In the hearts of Parisiens
And across France
And beyond

On cots people reflect
On the trappings of democracy
And the evil of barbaric ideology
That must be nipped in the bud

The roses are hidden with flowerets
And bring a drop of dew
In the dust of loss

A puppy searches for trust
As the stroller sends him love kisses
Between short barks
With the tail in mid air
And a frown
On the fawn-brown forehead

A thought leaps in
The burdened soul
Of the stroller
Can les Parisiens trust again?