We walked over the stone bridge and the

History in its bones reflected the

History in yours

A Parisian woman, whose wrinkles told stories

Smiled to me, but at you

As I tried to pronounce our location

Pont Neuf

French would never be my native language,

French was yours

History carried in your footsteps through Paris

Across Île de la Cité

In a city that kept fond memories of you

Tucked away on cobblestone streets in the

Eighteenth arrondissement

Hidden in plain sight on Rue de Rivoli and Victor Hugo Avenue  

Baked into the baguettes you loved so much

An internal compass switched on

Muscle memory guided the way

As if you’ve done this before

In a lifetime that hadn’t yet included me

But now, in a lifetime that included us forever

Your native tongue

Swirled the syllables and constants and vowels

Until each word sang of songs of your past

I tried to pronounce the way you did, had the

Soles of my feet touch the same ground that once welcomed you, had the

Midafternoon French sunshine bounce off my midnight hair

Settled into a je ne sais quoi, 

That only Paris through your footsteps could understand

We walked over Pont Neuf and the

Arches of the bridge reflected perfect circles into

The Siene

If the light hit right, because we stayed long enough to see it