A PARISIAN ANGEL
I indulged in every revelry as I did dine
In the wake of a penitential night
When every glass of bourbon and Spanish wine
Brought me only remorseful pain.
I waited for the shining of the matin light
Beneath a silver lamppost in the misty rain.
And there, before me,
Went an angel of the sun,
Clad in a sailor's coat, redolent as a summer vine.
Two lovers of the sea were we,
Two lovers though as truly one;
I shook when her lips did glisten and shine.
She was French in her beauty to the very core.
(The Parisian sun was dawning.)
Her hair was of a raven hue.
And as she passed me on the avenue
On her way beneath a greenish awning
To the little grocery store,
In the silhouettes of a shady blue,
My heart could truly take no more.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ
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