Saturday, October 08, 2011

Paris



Paris

Exotic names, and hope,
Of passion with the decadence.
But you are nothing like,
Pretentious, nor let it be said,
A wild abandoned child.

In Topaz hues, I see,
A light of being loved alive.
Synthesis with all around you.
Even the tawdy wardrobe,
And the brash mascara,
Giving out a doleful laugh.

Many are the men,
That say they want you.
True is the desire,
They show to have you.
And still, innocence shows,
You take only those of faith !