Parisian Mystique

Parisian Mystique

Soft fire burns like smoking incense
From eyes that have seen the heart of infinity
Whose blue glow is the earth seen from orbit
Her atmosphere is the ambiance of a Parisian café
When midnight approaches like a cat
On the streets of mercy

Armed with the lipstick blues
She gazes into the souls of men
To photograph their spirits
Capturing the dark lullaby of night
In a dark room of the soul
Where pictures never fade
But stay lustrous
As the azure in her gaze

When dawn haloes her autumn tresses
Like wine light
In a glass of vintage burgundy