Des Larmes Pour Paris (Tears for Paris)
It all started with just a seed of hate
propaganda straining with the weight
suicide bombers, lives torn apart
as desperate screams pierce the heart.
Day without sun, stars without night
moon without glow, what a lonely sight
in a river of fear all hopes drown
as the levee comes crashing down.
And the wayfarer never makes it home
his spirit cast away, to forever roam
pierced by the shrapnel, left for dead
as the streets of Paris turn scarlet red.
Point the finger, place the blame
but we shall never be the same
damage done, no turning back
as the tower lights fade to black.
Colleen Keller Breuning © 2015
November 17, 2015
Colleen Keller Breuning 