Elizabeth Currie

Writer, Artist, Photographer

Writing — Poetry

City of Lovers

Smell of coffee from a streetside bar
in wet streets mirrored with rain and busy feet
tramping by up the Rou d'Anglais
a murmur, a hum of life, a beating heart -
aroma of another day; 
turgid waters of the river flow, bridge past bridge and watch
the endless passers by come and go
busy busy traffic down the street, 
the roar and blare of sirens serenade
the passing of another day.

Views over distant Paris in the morn
clouded skies and mist, or wind and rain
paint the day in leaden hues -
moody and mournful;
the gloomy boulevard with warm and winking lights
glinting from the ruffled puddles
hurry on the passers by 
deep down the busy boulevard
swept by rain and leaves from London plane
springtime in Paris!

 

A song of streets, a hum of nights,
a celebration of life’s rich pageant
on every corner, in every plaza
at every table in a streetside cafe
where glasses chink and voices chatter -
laughter, a broken snatch of song,
a tune picked lightly on an old piano.

I would leave you behind, but your memory haunts me
City of lovers and life’s dreamed moments,
of hopes that glinted bright and brief like candles
on the tables of midnight diners;
I would leave you behind
City of dreamers, of love’s lost moments,
but you wink at me from ancient photos
deep in my heart - that memory’s chasm.