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Love
is evening in Paris
A procession
of images
Flitting on
the Siene
Boats ablaze
With laughter
and music
Glide past
Leaving streamers
of joy
On dark waters
Of memory.
Every love is
a perfume
A touch
Of gossamer
chiffon
On shoulders
of breeze
A spirit of
Bovary
In the scented
boudoir
As a pink dusk
In blooming
lust
Of unconsumed
passion
A thirsty desert
Yearning for
rain
In empty hours
To the sweet
tunes
Of music in
their blood
Men and women
dance
And change the
music
To perfumes
of love
Ever new
Not one
But quite a
few
In palaces of
Versailles
In gardens of
Fontainebleau
As whiffs of
breeze
Awaken
In every spring
chateau
A spell of Pompadour
A passion of
Deserie
A Josephine's
grace
On a young face
And in lustrous
eyes
Stars of the
earth
Swing
In lingering
twilight
Along rainbow
umbrellas
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Of the Champs
Elysees
And in a measured
beat
Tap their feet
On intriguing
paths
Of unforgettable
chances
Whispering glances
Eyes kiss
And hearts meet
In bold advances
Bouquets of
beauty
Garnered
From lavish
harvests
Of art in rich
centuries
Creative images
of France
Enlivened in
the Louvre
A sister stream
of the Seine
Forever flowing
In the spirit
of Paris
By the flower
stands
Under spires
of Notre Dame
And beyond Montmartre
Colors and fragrances
blend
Into new moods
of joy
Paris has many
a face
Of love and
loneliness
Every love
A world of its
own
Has its own
moment
Of glory and
sunset
Like ebbing
tides
Perfumes leave
no imprint
On paths of
breeze.
I go all alone
Along the fleeting
Seine
On my last walk
Sun has set
on my back
And on every
step
I dream
Of love and
flowers
Blooming every
moment
In the heart
of night
And on the lips
of dawn.
M.
Yusuf Abbasi
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