Adam Shirley

Midnight in Paris

cold spring nights

comfort blisses my shivers

explorations without fright

can't contain my hand, it quivers

the unexpected ocurred

but to object you'd be wrong

my heart to be stirred

the venue was dark but you gleamed with color

and although I was smaller I felt

as tall as the building you told me about

without a doubt-- you are walking poetry

and tonight, I felt like an heiress

on this cold night, it was a 

Midnight in Paris.


To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.