In July, when Paris hums with light,
I step onto the cobbled streets,
Where history whispers in the night,
And every corner, a story repeats.
The Seine, like silk, flows gently by,
Reflecting skies of azure blue,
Beneath the bridges, low and high,
Where lovers carve their dreams in view.
The Eiffel Tower, a guardian tall,
Stands against the summer’s breeze,
Its iron lace, a monument to all,
Who’ve dreamed beneath its canopy of trees.
Along the river, I stroll with care,
Past Notre-Dame with spires that reach,
Into the heavens, standing there,
A masterpiece that time can’t breach.
The gargoyles gaze with stony eyes,
Protecting tales of centuries gone,
As bells toll out the city’s cries,
A hymn to all who dare to dawn.
The Louvre, a palace of the past,
Holds secrets in its grand embrace,
Where art and history interlace,
And time itself is held steadfast.
The gardens of Tuileries unfold,
A tapestry of green and gold,
Where statues watch the stories told,
By those who walk, both young and old.
Children laugh and lovers sigh,
In shaded bowers by the lake,
Where lilies bloom and swans float by,
A peaceful scene that dreams awake.
Through winding streets, I find my way,
Montmartre calls with bohemian flair,
Where artists paint the light of day,
And shadows dance without a care.
Sacré-Cœur on its hill does gleam,
A beacon in the Paris sky,
From here the city feels a dream,
As endless rooftops stretch and sigh.
The cafes hum with life and song,
Where writers pen their thoughts of love,
And poets weave their words along,
Like echoes from the stars above.
In parks, I pause to breathe the air,
Luxembourg’s gardens, lush and fair,
Where statues stand with timeless stare,
And flowers bloom without compare.
Here, the air is thick with time,
With stories etched in every stone,
A city’s pulse, a living rhyme,
That beats within my very bone.
The Champs-Élysées, wide and grand,
Unfolds before my wandering feet,
A boulevard where dreams expand,
And history and present meet.
The Arc de Triomphe rises bold,
A symbol of the nation’s pride,
Its tales of courage strong and old,
Are carried on the evening tide.
The sun begins to dip and sway,
Casting shadows long and deep,
As Paris whispers the end of day,
And the city slowly falls to sleep.
But in the night, the lights come on,
The city glows in golden hue,
And every street I walk upon,
Feels both familiar and anew.
The Seine now sparkles like a dream,
As bridges glow in soft embrace,
And Paris, in its nightly gleam,
Becomes a land of purest grace.
I walk until the morning breaks,
Until the sky is tinged with red,
And in my heart, this city wakes,
A thousand stories gently fed.
For Paris is not just a place,
But a feeling deep, a sacred space,
Where history and dreams entwine,
And every step is yours and mine.
In July, with every step I take,
I feel the pulse of those who’ve been,
Who walked these streets for history’s sake,
And left their mark on what they’ve seen.
So as I wander, day or night,
Through Paris, with its endless charms,
I carry with me the city’s light,
Forever held within my arms.
For in this city, old and new,
Where past and present softly blend,
I find a love that’s always true,
In Paris, where all journeys end.
And as the summer days grow long,
I’ll walk these streets, both near and far,
To find my place where I belong,
Beneath the Parisian star.
In every stone, in every park,
In every landmark standing tall,
I find a piece, a tiny spark,
Of Paris’s soul, within us all.
