(Whenever I think of Paris I hear La Vie en Rose, so i hope you listen while reading and feel the embrace of a lover called- Paris)
If Paris was a man he would have been the lover to awaken my soul. He would have taught me that pleasure should not be rushed, but savoured and lingered and bold. His soft kisses of light caressed my unopened eyes till we sat amidst wicker chairs and wine, where chocolat coated tongues tasted the perfumed breeze from window boxes filled with fleur-de-lis.
He seemed to be mine alone, on long walks in the rain, but with every bridge across the Seine I could stroll into his heart and secure a lock amid the weight of countless paramours.
Our love would not have been his first.
He breathed life in cultured tones wafting the scent of a patisserie at dawn as he whispered in my ear- La Vie en Rose. I felt the reverence of the Louvre run within his veins, sending elegance flowing into every word like cracks in cobbled streets. His suits were matched to ties like ordered gardens, glinting at the wrist with cuff-links to complement the brilliance of his smile. But, beneath the rich cloth lay the sanctuary I once sought, sculpted from the stones of Notre Dame.
And, when there were no more pastries or art that could fill my heart I would seek the Montmartre of my dreams, where he has always kept a cove within the Basilique, for me to love unseen.
YOU ARE READING
If Paris was a Man...
Thơ caWhat if places were people, & the mystical canals of Venice or highlands of Scotland took the form of Man? What would he be like & would he capture your heart? Would the rugged landscape be reflected in roughened form or the cool brush of city stee...
