Back to The writing home collection
February 22
105/365

Postcard from Paris

These boulevards are broken porcelain
through which the Seine River runs.
Mornings bring buttery pastries in pairs and
nights swirl with Jazz and the smell of leather.
Because I don’t know French,
I can’t discern anger from elation.
Women here wear blazers and scarves,
and everything reminds me of you.

Postcard from Paris

These boulevards are broken porcelain
through which the Seine River runs.
Mornings bring buttery pastries in pairs and
nights swirl with Jazz and the smell of leather.
Because I don’t know French,
I can’t discern anger from elation.
Women here wear blazers and scarves,
and everything reminds me of you.

Janée J. Baugher

Seattle / Renton

 
Share Button
EXPLORE MORE    |    |    |    |    |  

EXPLORE MORE

arrivals & departures  |  buses  |  changes  |  childhood  |  children  |  comfort  |  day & night  |  distance  |  dreams  |  family  |  fathers  |  flora & fauna  |  food  |  gardens  |  healing  |  hearts  |  homeland  |  hometowns  |  home within  |  journeys  |  loss  |  love  |  memories  |  mortality  |  mothers  |  mountains  |  music  |  poems by youth  |  rain  |  refuge  |  returns  |  scents  |  seasons  |  sky  |  solitude  |  sorrow  |  Spanish  |  strangers  |  streets  |  sweetness  |  technology  |  travels  |  wildness  |  windows & doors  |  words & letters
 
Powered By Indic IME