Beneath the twilight’s gentle sigh,
The Seine whispers tales of days gone by.
Shadows dance on cobblestone streets,
As echoes of love and loss softly meet.

In the heart of Paris, a silent cry,
Where dreams and destinies intertwine and die.
The Eiffel’s silhouette, a ghostly figure,
Stands watch over memories that linger.

Lovers’ promises, now mere whispers in the wind,
Their souls adrift, where history’s threads begin.
The city’s pulse, a mournful throb,
As the past and present gently sob.

O Paris, with your beauty and your scars,
You hold the secrets of countless stars.
In your embrace, life’s final breath,
Whispers softly the tale of French death.