In the heart of the city, where dreams once danced,
Under the gaze of the Eiffel Tower,
Shadows grew long, as the silence advanced,
And whispers of fate fell like a ghostly shower.
The Seine held its breath, as the waters turned gray,
Reflections of glory now fading away,
The echoes of laughter, once bright in the light,
Were swallowed by darkness, consumed by the night.
Where the Champs-Élysées once sparkled with glee,
Now murmurs of sorrow drifted soft on the breeze,
The cafés lay empty, the artists dispersed,
As the pulse of the city was slowly reversed.
In the shadows of history, the echoes resound,
Of Napoleon dreaming on battles unbound,
His empire a whisper, a tale of the past,
While the heart of the nation lay bruised and harassed.
The cobblestones trembled beneath weary feet,
As the cries of the hungry filled alleys of heat,
From the walls of Montmartre to Notre-Dame,
The spirit of Paris was caught in a scheme.
The banners of war flew high in the sky,
As the clang of the iron met the soft, tearful sigh,
The people, once proud, now faced a cruel fate,
With each passing hour, their hearts filled with weight.
In the gardens of Luxembourg, beauty turned frail,
The roses turned brittle, their petals to pale,
Where lovers once whispered sweet secrets of love,
Now silence reigned heavy, as if from above.
But still, the ghosts lingered in every small street,
In the laughter of children, in the rhythm of feet,
The remnants of joy, like the leaves in the fall,
Brought whispers of hope to the depths of it all.
For even in darkness, a spark can ignite,
A flame of resilience, a beacon of light,
Though the fall of Paris seemed heavy and grim,
Her spirit, undaunted, would rise once again.