Paris, Just There listen to MP3
There is laughter beneath these sheets.
December slush puddles around your name
Swooping up measures of summered pleasures,
killing time with freedom and frivolity.
You gush forth with brilliance
Shining like the new moon over oceans,
Stirring quakes and rupturing sweet silence.
Come to me now
With winds dancing merrily,
Carrying your why and how,
Bringing all measures of being through lightness.
Purposeful and pleasantly,
Dance through the streets
And cheer against crowds
Disturbed by holiday bliss.
Where fogs find nestled intentions,
Comfort against glass,
Speak in poetics and sonnets
rhyming rhythms with me.
Pretend Paris is just there
On the other side of the street.
Swim across the channel,
or Thames as it may be,
and push through the laughter,
clinging ever so gently to snow-capped curbs
to lead you
through sheets and gusts and puddles of peace,
and sing lullabies in languages we wish we could speak.
~ from stains: early poems by Lori A. May