Imagine Paris, many years ago
Untouched by the internet or cell phones
Gently caressed by sunlight and fresh snow
With a heart that loves all, which no one owns
Listen to strangers talking in the street
Their French is elegant and civilized;
In this brief moment, many lovers meet
By their piquant passion, feel scandalized
Look at that fellow’s hat, that woman’s gown
Contemplate what they hide and what they show
Think how this seething city must have grown
About this winter, how much can we know?
This painting is a fingerprint of time
Unique, legible, now worshipped in rhyme
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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