#92
Walking the streets of Paris with my wife,
Feeling her heart through her hand on my arm
(It is April and we're here for a week),
We celebrate twenty five years, a life
Of mutual shelter beneath the storm,
Sharing a blue umbrella as we seek
Out the old soul behind the city's charms,
What we've found in each other countless times
When the sun has broken through and we shine.
She gasped when she saw the Eiffel Tower,
Her wonder more thrilling than its power,
While the Winged Victory's arms were not missed,
Because she sought to entwine hers with mine,
And in front of Rodin's The Kiss, we kissed.
