Hopscotch

I am lost in Paris. At first it was a beautiful dream.

Now I'm wandering dark streets with no bearing.

I have dark stalkers always three steps behind.

No one speaks my language.

The only things that speak to me are the writings on the walls.

The paintings on the walls.

To many dark shadows are covering them.

You have every reason to be worried, you put me here.

I got caught up in the beauty of all of you.

Heaven help you when I get out. And trust me I will.






Sage