PARIS
I think of times long past
when lovers met through pen on page
and I wonder if we will be as they.
You, simply words on a page.
Dear sweet sounding words
that open your heart and soul.
And speak to mine.
Simple words
growing dearer each day,
flourishing in our hearts and minds.
Your words speak of Paris
And my mind travels to that distant time
when we will meet.
And I fear it,
for the disappointment of reality.
And long for it,
as one longs for true love.
Paris calls me,
as does the springtime
with you.
Lauren Davies