If this sombre mood
At this Saturday sunset
Is not for love alone
Then it is for loneliness;
For all that might have been
Or the memory of what used to be.

That pure and perfect picture
Of the cities most captured kiss
May have been merely a moment
Imagined, an idea once captured,
But its essence is alive on the lips
Of each and every courting couple
With their hands joined, their bodies
Touching, teasing, cavorting, embracing
And displaying such a degree of affection
To each other that does nothing but affirm
The solitary state of the single man in Paris.


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