In the quiet streets of Paris night,
Whispers of history take their flight.
Shadows dance with a ghostly grace,
As memories of lost souls embrace.
The Seine flows with tales untold,
Of hearts once warm, now turned cold.
Beneath the bridges, secrets lie,
Murmuring softly, a sorrowful sigh.
The Eiffel stands, a silent guard,
Watching over the city’s scarred.
Lights twinkle in a mournful tune,
Under the gaze of a pale, distant moon.
Yet in this death, a beauty blooms,
A city reborn from ancient tombs.
For in the end, life intertwines,
With the timeless echo of French designs.