Untitled End to a Parisian Affair

Sitting under a Parisian night sky painted in a cool pastel palette...
Watching the stars reflection in the mirrored water of the Seine.

Lovers coo under willowed branches, idly tossing pebbles among the fallen blossoms...
So french you could taste it on their breath.

The melancholy strum of a Spanish guitar, filling the air with scentless perfume...
A warm breeze begs to be waltzed with.

The vendor pushes his cart before him, a low hum bellows from beneath his dark mustache...
A lady's glove peeks from his pocket.

A quiet stroll to a tiny park; geraniums and poppies moonlit and weepy...
A pale gazebo in need of company.

The patter of one's footfall on the cool pavement; a mother and young child's brisk walk to their door...
Fingers run over cast iron fences, and mind over swollen remembrances.

Calls of fond farewells and closed doors fill the street ways, tones of amber fade from the panes...
The few hours left before dawn spared attention.

The weight of the brass knob in tired hands; a worn letter's removal from one's coat...
...The sigh that follows a resolution...

A kiss, a flick; the flames engulf.
A last night in Paris spent alone.