at the Fountain of the Louvre

A Mona Lisa Smile
 
He watches the sun caress her body,
basting her curves with tiny beads of sweat;
his eyes trace a path across clavicle.
He longs to follow each drop as it slips
beneath the cling of fabric, soaking in,
giving her a glow, enhanced with secrets
she guards behind closed eyes and subtle smile.
 
She has no need of white sandy beaches;
the hot marble and cold fountain water
quiet her want; her desire simmers
just below the surface, waiting for him.
 
Under the Paris sky, he enters her
dreams, whispers of the wonders below them –
love, beauty – and a Mona Lisa smile.
 

Siobhan
07/10/09

 

Coffee and croissants

 

With Butter and Jam
 
She wakes, body stretched out to the edges
of a twin bed, covers rumpled from sleep.
Sunshine filters through the unfamiliar
curtains; sounds drift in the open window. 
Disoriented, she closes her eyes,
takes a deep breath, and remembers… Paris.
 
She knows that if she looks out the window
now she will see the skyline of her dreams,
the Eiffel Tower on the horizon;
the shelter of the Montparnasse’s shadow.
Up the street, a café for coffee, fresh
croissant with butter and jam, is waiting.
 
She slips from bed, slides a sundress over
nakedness – dreams become reality.
 
 
Siobhan
07/08/09

 

It only took 26 years

Paris – at Last
 
She steps on to the plane, a window seat
for the first leg of her journey, a flight
to dreams she has held for so very long.
Reality melts into consciousness,
no longer fantasizing, she takes off.
 
Paris, put on hold – for love, for labor,
for years as her life shifted, adjusted
to the whims and desires of others.
 
She pushed aside study for a marriage;
she delayed the rendez-vous for a birth;
she tossed away whimsy for another.
 
The stale of airport coffee and popcorn
disappears, replaced by café au lait
and croissants as she lands at last – Paris.
 
Siobhan
07/08/09

 

Paris at last

Perhaps in Paris

She will find the elusive
dreams;
those that perch of the edge
of awareness,
tease her
with possibilities … opportunities
lost only to be found
again
in sleep.

Perhaps in Paris –
when at last she arrives,
they will be waiting
in the sunrise
over a sidewalk café,
on a park bench beneath the trees
in a small park square – the one with all the pigeons
and the old men who mumble
and grumble
about young love,
all with a twinkle in their eyes
memory curving their lips to a smile.

Perhaps
her dreams will drift in
through an open window
with the sound of lovers
forgetting the world around them.

Perhaps in Paris…

Siobhan
06/29/09

 

back from Paris

On the Shore

Stretched out
languid on the shore
of the Seine
his lean body shimmers
in sunshine
oblivious to boaters – world gawkers
staring from the top
of the Eiffel Tower
and the garish orange seats
of Parisian vessel.

Siobhan
06/27/09