Paris - The paper planes I launched

​A silhouette against a summer sky,

a textbook come to life

there beyond the car’s window -

filling the gaps in the vocabulary of a schoolboy’s French,

the reality of a schoolboy’s dream

Paris, there in front of me.

​The waiting ended.

Adulthood arrived with my brown suitcase and a choice

the freedom to finally make the step.

She was the opportunity,

my summer love,

the then "love of my life,"

and when she asked,

there was only one answer.

​I went - and I stayed,

trading the distant view for a typical Parisian apartment.

Up past the watchful eye of a concierge,

a winding staircase,

a simple room tucked under the eaves - a possible location for love to bloom.

​Living the Parisian dream,

fed by the scent of the nearby patisserie

and the occasional "two-franc" bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau,

the vintage matching our happy, naive age.

Happy; with the quiet courtyard below

and the paper planes I made to throw into the park below,

taken by the breeze - like the love for the girlfriend who brought me to this place,

love now a ghost from a previous chapter.

​This city stayed inside me,

claiming the space she left behind.

I stayed - with time enough to walk the streets,

to cement the memories

to which I often returned -returning to stand in the very park beneath that apartment window,

looking up to where the paper planes once caught the air.

​The paper planes I launched

are all long since gone,

leaving my heart still up there,

hovering over the rooftops,

always waiting for the next time.

Paris With You

(I must say thank you to James Fenton for his poem "In Paris with you" for the inspiration for this piece)

Paris is; they say the city of love,

and I love that city more than any above.

I know that through lifes wringer; I have been

and that the very bottom; I have seen.

But when love grew,

and you said "I do"

I must go to Paris; Paris with you.

We could stroll its boulevards let's see all it's sights,

visit the 'Sacre Coeur'; up all those flights.

At the top we'd gaze upon the city and stare,

just drink it all in without a care.

But what a drag,

come; light me a fag!

for I am in Paris; Paris with you. 

Let's order 'service de chambre', cover the bed sheets with crumbs.

Much better than the 'metro'

and twiddling our thumbs.

We could express our love in a thousand ways,

then call down for 'service'

to take all the trays.

Paris is our view,

we're here; us two

here in Paris; Paris with you.

To hell with the 'Louvre' and all its queues,

and old 'Notre Dame' giving me the blues.

The 'Latin Quarter' although vibrant and gaye,

are going to have to wait',

I've got something to say.

Who could want more,

quick; fasten the door!

For I love Paris; Paris with you!

Paris - Reminiscing

in the park

of a typical Parisian square

in the spring - where

the entrance to the 'metro' at

'Sevre - Babylone' waits to take you,

into the city - as

young children play

and mothers watch-over

and all life is there - amongst

the typical 'hubbub'

of a city and...

and I am taken back - it

is fifty years ago

and I am taken back to this address.

To '8 Rue de Babylon' - Enter

through a door

into the small courtyard beyond,

past a small shuttered window - nip

past the concierges apartment,

up the many flights of stairs

to a small dusty flat - with

enough space for young lovers

there's a little window to enjoy 

a view of the city - (and

the  'Le Bon Marche'

where 'Beaujolais nouveau'

was two francs a bottle) - and

a boulangerie,

every morning; for breakfast,

fresh croissants and bread - and

now, here I sit

looking up at that building

where paper planes once spiralled - from

the little window high above me,

floating on the breeze,

landing by the very same spot - where,

with my wife

I now sit and I start...

   reminiscing

Paper Planes

Paper planes fly
swirling round the still Parisienne sky
down to the ground
from the little window high
above the triangle of grass
now a park
for children to play in
like I was just a child
when I made those paper planes fly
swirling round the still Parisienne sky
down to the ground
from that little window high
all those many years ago