Monday, 12 May 2014

Evening in Paris


It was the most wonderful night.

The streets popped like canvases:
impressionist paintings that sparkled
in wet oils
and tiny bush strokes
that dipped and danced everywhere,
with light.

And I knew:
I just knew, I was in a sweet reminiscence -
as it unfolded -
as it was happening
as I watched the dream to la vie en rose,
unfurl in chartreuse and blue.

Sometimes he makes steak - rare -
with béarnaise sauce and red wine.
Candles glow
and flicker and twinkle

And we are there.
photo:  Evening in Paris - W. Bourke and

Le Café de nuit by Vincent Van Gogh (public domain).

© 2013 Wendy Bourke


  1. ah what a beautiful memory....and esp to be taken back to it with the can def transport you...and sounds like a very happy time...

  2. Yes - a very special, happy time. Thank you, Brian.

  3. Again you rock the ambience! What a most wonderful time you must have had. I love those times that we can revisit in memory and poetry.

    1. It was wonderful! Probably made all the sweeter - having dreamed, for so many years, about being there.

  4. a dream world it seems...beautiful :)

  5. How you can travel in memory - and sometimes just with the aid of the quisine.. love the colors your painted too.

  6. Just beautiful, Wendy. Once a person travels to a place one can travel there in memory again and again, which is a good thing. Travel just keeps giving and given; and at certain times one is just taken back....and I can see by your poem that in the candle light you were there in Paris again. I do hope you have an opportunity to be there in reality again too. Smiles.

  7. A wonderful companion piece to your Paris fragrance poem.

    The lines that are particularly memorable to me:
    Sometimes he makes steak - rare -
    with béarnaise sauce and red wine.

    The streets popped like canvases: