It Was Paris For Us Then

It was a moment carved in time
by the dilligent hands of fate
chip by chip, delicately sublime
engraved by memory's dictate.

It was Paris for us then
in the summer when mine eyes met thine
as we walk on hand in hand
by the bridges of the river Seine.

Upon the cobbled well-loved streets
we pound our footsteps on well-worn stones
as we lived for a while without surfeits
and all we have is this love to atone.

And there it was, the cafe still stands
of all that was, what we were once
a place to visit now and then
when it was Paris for us thence.


"I set it upon the hill overlooking the sea
this memorial to what once was
I am here to.. well.. not to bury it,
but perhaps to accept its conclusion."

On This Day

If, there is ever a time that I have missed her,
then it is now and compounded by more.
If, I have ever felt of love's succour,
then it is now and it has never been more.

I can see now, as I never saw then,
the foolishness of my half-hearted endeavour.
I know now, what I never knew then,
that love is a place you have to discover.

Love is not a right, nor a privileged favor,
it is earned by deeds and perhaps a little more,
Love can't be forced, nor coerced if ever,
it is a gift given and received per fore.

It is strange, that I realise this,
on the very day, that I accepted its release,
It was a dream, this vision of bliss,
on all her love, I have decided to appease.

But on this day, I have set her free,
from this prison, my misguided love has built,
But on this day, I miss her more readily,
from this token, I have won no victory.
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