in Paris in black and white
who will share in black and white
a street light in Paris on a winter’s night
cigarette glow in snow and smoke and mist
wet cobbled hills up slow Montmartre
and who will walk the talking walk
along the postered whispered boulevard
adverts tattered of gowns on boards
soaked in tears this city end of night
arming hearts once paired in dance
down hours lit of dimming light
down everything that dims the thought
that no thoughts may pertain
and all in black and white
at the very very end of night
cry stop do stay do not go
but gone is now the morrow that
has broken faith and dawned and crept away
on this time-startled dawn
and slept is never the ended word
at the end of a street
in Paris
in black and white
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