Voyageur, Part Deux

Are you and I
linked forever
together in Paris..
when I wore dark lipstick
and you picked up Le Monde
for me?

Bringing me black coffee
as I fermented revolution
through my pen?

You pined and sighed
for me
through
the bourgoise boredom
and the black print
of the burning papers
kept our love
alive,
through the centuries.

Burning
brightly
through
the burning centuries

You and I
and black print..
can it ever be snuffed out?

As long as freedom is alive,
our love
with burn through the centuries
burning brightly
like the flame
of flight..