He invites her, waits on that wood-drawn seat
\nunder their pink floral trees, ancient lamp
\nand chilly, newspaper air. Il fait doux, so
\nhe leaves his coat thrown over the bench
\nand greying night leaves milky light
\nin sheltered wreaths of black-and-white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hazy sands in clouded streets trail
\ntheir paths for her stilted feet. Her stride
\nincreased and paced for the Champs-Elys\u00e9es.
\nShe feels the heat. Pleated skirt at her knees,
\nso unlike her usual things. She wears a blouse,
\nchemisier; smiles her way, brilliantly. Teeth
\nwhite against a red lip and Cleopatra eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beautiful lies over journeyed lands reveal this
rising evening romance. Her heaving sands,
sunset streets, the lamp still lit, straight shoulders,
sweet golden-grey swaying Cleopatra eyes
realise le beau soleil and carry her to Paris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maeve Moran is an Irish student currently studying English Literature and Education Studies at Durham University. Maeve is absolutely fascinated by language and words and voice and uses poetry to explain the things she simply cannot express properly any other way. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" He invites her, waits on that wood-drawn seat under their pink floral trees, ancient lamp and chilly, newspaper air. Il fait doux, so he leaves his coat thrown over the bench and greying night leaves milky light in sheltered wreaths of black-and-white. The hazy sands in clouded streets trail their paths for her stilted feet. … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1791","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-sT","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1791","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1791"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1791\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1792,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1791\/revisions\/1792"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1791"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1791"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1791"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}