For Love of Marie Antoinette

FOR LOVE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE Songwriters set their words about her style and artists make pursuit to paint her smile but all the light that's Paris, shows, her heart and soul to only those who come to fall in love for just while. But knowing this, my wondering still lies as I recall Marie, her face,her eyes, and she is just a memory though what I'd have to always be, if time was mine and not a thing that flies. I trace my blood and line of ancestry down through some troubled times of history or is it that I've journeyed long from when my life went all so wrong but it's so far removed, my mind can't see? These questions rake my mind and leave me cold, Am I my father who's still growing old; and who is she, to go away to deju vu--to yesterday, or has she layed our love to times' unfold? I guess I'll find her on Champs Elysees, or in the Champ de Mars, where children play or where one day the guillotine cut life away, and cut it clean, but this is now, and that was yesterday. O! I would lay my neck under the blade; if there would ever be a diff'rence made to end the pain she left in me and stop the love for my Marie but love--this love for her can never fade. And so, as other loves they come and go, as Paris says, and Paris makes it so, I wait and wander by the Seine but know not where, and know not when, for love of my Marie, she'll come, I know. © RON WILSON aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet