Grief Over Paris.

A startled
tear arrived
sheathed in a
blanket of dew,
it was your grief
heavy as the
great Blue Mountains.

An anchor of unacquainted
sorrow hangs
upon the arch
of your rose n mouth.

Deep French eyes so
overcast, ready to drop.

Around your heart
a cocoon
a restful parlour where
you may dream
of happy tones.

Dear breath sleep
one day the oracle
sun will return.