Autumn slipped into Paris yesterday, came silently down Boulevard St Michel, In sultry heat, past boughs sullen and still, and met me on its way. As I walked on to where the Seine flows by, little twig songs burned softly in my heart, smoky, odd, sombre, purple songs. I thought they sighed that I shall die. Autumn drew abreast and whispered to me, Boulevard St Michel that moment shivered. Rustling, the dusty, playful leaves quivered, whirled forth along the way. One moment: summer took no heed: whereon, laughing, autumn sped away from Paris. That it was here, I alone bear witness, under the trees that moan.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Aug 2013 22:08:44 +0000
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