An expat’s plea to Paris
Lac Daumesnil these days
Paris, I thought you were a dream
But you’re not always what you seem,
For all the stories I’ve been told
Said culture and romance would unfold.
And although I’ve seen some wondrous sights,
I begin to doubt you are the City of Light.
While I dine on your fresh bread,
Darkness hovers overhead.
And when I search for that French Flair,
Dampness lingers in the air.
Hour by hour and day by day
Outside my window I see only gray.
What Lac Daumesnil should look like
In places where I once had fun
I’m now asking, “where’s the sun?”
And if the sun does briefly glare
I cannot help but stop and stare.
Through winter and spring we waited and yearned
For the days when the sun would brightly burn.
But the promise of summer starts to fade
As plans for picnics cannot be made.
The rain continues and all the while
Like a Parisian, I lose my smile.
So Paris, please, I’m begging you!
Let the glorious sun shine through!