May you always arrive in Paris
wearing nighttime like eyeliner
and a gossamer blouse fluttering
like a spiderweb stretched
across a sundial’s shadow,
and may you roam the cafes
with your irresistible wink
of clinking wine glasses.

May you always arrive in Paris
carrying a lilting bouquet
and may you wander
through the downpour
to Cimetière du Montparnasse
visiting graves of poets
leaving a trail of red roses
with your swirling hair
damp as a book left out
all night in the rain.