Parisian Raindrops

The Eiffel Tower scrapes the sky,
Its pointed tip poised to inject Parisian dreams into the clouds.
Parisian raindrops fall lightly.
They are filled with aspirations gone to waste,
Aspirations manifested,
Aspirations unseen.
Slick hoods of cars carry them far.
Modern transportation is the gardener,
Planting artistic seeds.
The Seine is chock full,
Glistening with hope.
I sit at tables with great souls,
Whose Parisian raindrops fell into the proper garden.
Their own tears of happiness glisten with hope as we
Partake in the moveable feast.