La Belle et La Bête

The Parisian Review lit a candle that night,
They honoured a granting to all those
On French soil, who among other things,
Disturbed & desiccated passions
Of those who were not perturbed by noises
Around those endured in flight seeking sanction.

She remained gracious as she walked
The Champs‑Élysées carrying platinum gold soul,
For it was July 14th, Bastille Day
A paradise for those lost heroes so named; Elysian Fields
But today wasn't a war of Gods & monsters,
She was la belle mademoiselle du jour on perfected streets
Louis Vuitton, Cartier, Hôtel de la Païva; 8th arrondissement of Paris.

He strolled, a dignified approach
To the woman of memory
So pained by his misgivings,
So chosen,
                   So forgiven,
                                         So loved
Today, she chose to forget,
To forsake,
To only know,
                       To love
To love, to love, him.

© Sia Jane