The Balcony

 
Without fancy work or a gargoyle face,
she’s almost non-descript, borders on plain.
Clinging to the edge, she squints through the trees
not tall enough to fully block her view.
Vines grow, climbing to entangle themselves
about her, hiding her from passersby
who explore the city searching out love.
 
When spring buds unfurl blossoms, shielding
lovers who venture out to perch above
Paris streets, she holds court to their whispers;
secrets and laughter kept between the three.
She has played witness to joy and anger;
been baptized in tears of rage and passion.
She is the silent partner in their lives.
 
 
Siobhan
07.26.10

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