The Promenade - Poem by Thomas Hooker
The evening was cool and the light favorable,
as we strolled the promenade along the Seine,
the cafes and cathedrals pitch
their aesthetics, while the tourists
stand out to the nuevo natives.
Paris is not only home to history,
the common, modern day people,
the substitute people, from a lost generation.
I feel the late afternoon rays streaming down,
it accentuates the mood as the light shadows
play games against the sun.
Today Saint Germaine and Notre Dame will
read as fiction, it is all too perfect,
walking towards destiny,
where life blurs the line's of fate
and the music I hear,
awakes the sleeping muse.
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The Road Not Taken
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