The void is awaiting

where there is no time or space.

Possibly lingering memories

by those remaining will last.

White canvasses of what

could have been a dream life

remain unpaided by the wall.

The music melodies

that echoed so invitingly to dance

slowly ebbed away to silence.

The spires of Notre Dame

and the romantic streets of Paris

now remain silent and empty,

of the love that echoed all around.

The many bridges over the Seine

that once carried love across

and locked in the promises of future

are left wanting and yearning.

The counterpoints of unexchanged words

painstakingly cried out into the ether

remain an ever unanswered call.

The teardrops on the cobble stones

make up the torrents of sorrow

that follows the stream of life.