Remember Paris

It was in April when I first met you. True love never dies. I remember the way you smiled as I sat down for a coffee in that little cafe in Paris. The night sky sparkling as bright as the street lamps along the boulevard, but it was your eye's that captured my heart. You were drinking an apéritif with your coffee, a Tia Maria wasn't it?

Remember our waiter, Alejandro Fernández, the foreign exchange student from Guadalajara?

He said, "Where I came from such nights are made for love." and he waved his hand in an arch across the starry sky and made me sit at your table, introducing us to one another as if he had always known someday we would meet. You were reading a book of my short stories, and when I reached in my breast pocket for my ink pen and wrote my name in your book, you looked shocked. We sat up all night talking, Alejandro supplying us with coffee and Tia Maria's. I still have that herringbone jacket, the pen I keep in a cigar box on my desk.

Whenever the night sky is aglow in starlight, and a sudden breeze kisses your cheek, remember, my love will always be with you.