It has come to my attention that Paris is more then a noun, to me. More then a place, much as I am sad to say. I have never traveled outside of the country at this point; I am far too old for that to be a reality. I started to consider the reason why I have not made to Grand old Pari,
Paris seems the perfect place for someone like me in theory,
a city for lovers, and me being a sag, one of the great lovers of the zodiacs,
sorry to be wrapped in conceit about this topic, but I have come to know for
some great time that If I have one gift, if there is one immutable fact about
me, It’s that I know love, it’s more like an ability then a personality
trait. Not always on but at a moment
notice, I can focus my powers on something or someone and that’s all she
wrote.
Paris
would be ideal, all the small streets, and little shops hocking all kind of wears. All the restaurants, and let me stop to say nothing translates love like good food, it’s like a filament to a light bulb. Maybe that’s why so many happy people are fat.
I keep having this dream, well not so much a dream then a
desire which is more vivid, to me then any dream, that I will walk the city of
love, not Philly but the streets of
Paris
with my love. Now here comes the funny part, the really rich layer to this all, the man with the power to love, and all this stored up love in his heart, has no one to love, and every time I plan a trip to the
Paris
, with someone, it never happens.
I plan to ask the woman I love Volonté vous m'épousez on the Eiffel tower, and she will accept my words and will with eyes blinded by love travel through the city.
As the years go on and time passes me by I begin to wonder if my dreams are every going to come true, I have tried so hard at times to my them a reality, but its not like making a cake, it’s more like a soufflé where you have to be quietly patient. But my soufflé won’t rise. My roots of love and hope have grown to a tree that won’t bear fruit.
But in my sad little heart I still believe it will one day, so I don’t throw the tree in the wood chucker, but it stands a reminder, more like a oversize question mark,
Will I ever see
Paris
?
