I stroll along the alleyway, passing small shops and diners.
Then I take a moment to lift my eyes to gaze at the night sky,
wondering if the stars know that they are shining,
shining for the most beautiful city in the world.
Shining for the City of Lights.
A foreign tongue, words glistening off lips.
A foreign cuisine, melting on your tongue.
Friendly smiles, friendly faces,
seem all too familiar,
although I am all too far from home.
Some say that ‘home is where the heart is’,
but how can I call somewhere home,
when my heart is somewhere else?
My heart belongs to Paris,
the place where lights shine.
My heart belongs to the streets,
the streets of red brick and cobblestone.
As I walk along the road, I gaze at the stars,
wondering if they know that they are shining,
shining for the most beautiful city in the world.