Get Your Premium Membership

Contemplations On Paris

I've spilled blood in France, and toured long the tired mile, and I've seen all bones and gold, Place Concorde, and Château de Versailles, yet Paris is not built with stone... nor made real with the work of men, it is a state of mind, and a dream that never ends.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things