Stone
Again I dreamed of being in Paris last night.
I could not see me,
but I could see the city,
unchanged.
All the stone walls and
gray white stone of heavy buildings
that rose long ago
from the minds of builders
and the quarries of stone.
Again I looked for a telephone.
I wanted to call for someone
I knew long ago.
Call to warn them that
things can happen.
Even in Paris.
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