For Paris
11-14-15
The City of Light and Love
lies bleeding, stands singing,
in the deep of night.
A quarter of a world away,
we watch and weep and pray
until, because we must, we sleep.
The nightmare does not fade
in the morning sun, but
along the boulevard,
men are planting trees.
*****
Becka Choat is a lifelong lover of words who spends many hours each week in a room of her own, writing or reading and drinking coffee. Her book reviews can be found at www.beckasbookreview.wordpress.com, and her poetry and other musings at www.beckachoat.wordpress.com. You may also follow @beckachoat and/or @booksbybecka on Twitter.
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