Paris bathed in neon's glow, the skies a constant storm,
Amidst the ruins, whispers flow of life in altered form.
Streets once filled with love and light now echo with despair,
In shadows of the Eiffel Tower, resilience lingers there.
Beneath the Arc de Triomphe, soldiers march in silence,
Grim faces etched with stories of relentless, brutal violence.
The Seine River flows with memories of what the city lost,
A testament to battles fought and the heavy human cost.
In the halls of Louvre, paintings weep for peace,
Guardians of a culture's heart, they pray for war's release.
The Notre Dame stands scarred, yet proud among the fray,
A beacon of enduring hope in the twilight of the day.
Amidst the shattered Champs-Élysées, ghosts of past parades,
Echoes of a city's joy now lost in murky shades.
Cafés once alive with song now serve a different brew,
Of whispered plans and secret codes, a war-torn rendezvous.
The Moulin Rouge, its lights now dim, remembers nights of dance,
A distant dream of laughter lost in war’s grim circumstance.
In Montmartre's winding streets, artists paint in grey,
Their canvases a somber tale of Paris in decay.
The Sorbonne buzzes with a knowledge grave and stark,
Scholars turn to strategy in the depths of war’s dark arc.
Libraries of ancient lore and books of distant lands,
Become the maps of future hope, drawn by desperate hands.
Through shattered glass of Gare du Nord, the trains no longer run,
Tracks that once led journeys now rust beneath the sun.
The echoes of the past are heard in every creak and groan,
A symphony of sorrow played on chords of steel and stone.
In the heart of Le Marais, resistance finds its voice,
Amidst the crumbling facades, they make a fateful choice.
To fight for what remains, to rise from ashes gray,
And dream of a Paris reborn, in some far brighter day.