Last night I went to Paris
with my first ever muse
and held her one hand
while we held the Triomphe
in the other

We basked in books
we bought in the rue de la Bûcherie
and gazed at herons in the Seine

We were two tired birds
that perched atop the Eiffel
one lazy night, ready for a kiss

That's when my eyes fluttered open
like the birds in Paris

the clock
tick tocks
in golden variables
every hour malleable
every minute ductile
every second savored
while we are juvenile