Paris The Seine dresses in light black, Mimicking the dark grey of the sky, And so, I drown my ink into it. Each poem becomes art, Reflecting and dancing Around my hands with care. The notes the river shares Become a painting that inspires All the great artists housed in its museums. Still, I vow and pray by its sight — Yet I dare not claim to be an artist As great as the one in sight. In Paris.
— Laura Chouette (The Willow Song)
















