I spent the day in Paris
and walked up the Metro steps
into the chestnut caress.
It was my honeymoon in Paris,
my miele de lune in Paris.
I spent the night is Paris,
in a walk-up in le Marais.
I didn’t really know where I was.
I had to ask the concierge.
She took me up the stairs
by the light of the minuterie,
my honeymoon night in Paris.
A week by then in Paris,
in the old train station,
Gare de Nord de Paris.
I ran into James Mason.
To this day, he swears,
we only talked schedules and fares.
Even though I knew, it was
my honeymoon in Paris.
It was my honeymoon in Paris,
even though, I was all alone.
No loving arms, no kisses shared,
my treasure trove unknown.
Dark it was, my honeymoon in Paris.
Sixteen years absent from Paris.
Two daughters sans Mother.
And now I was a widower
thinking of my life
in the middle of a honeymoon is Paris.
And who will come to share it?
Time came again for Paris,
Spring of ninety two.
Came a time to cherish,
came a time to woo.
I met the one that I call dearest,
and now we’re on out honeymoon,
a honeymoon at last, in Paris.
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