PHOTO PROMPT © C.E.Ayr
All those summer nights
closing spun-out days of waiting tables
blistered feet, merry hearts and
cheery faces in creamy cafes and yellow-lit clubs.
Hope was never a fragile thing.
Together, we would make it through.
Starlight in the skies
turned to fires burning high
over our heads, we were lost in flames.
The sirens screamed long into the night.
Our stricken hearts would never give up this fight.
When the daylight came to clear the smoke away,
the words on our lips met the tears on our cheeks:
Paris has fallen. Paris has fallen.
(Update: As Neil pointed out, try reading it backwards. It kinda almost works 😉 )
This is a story of how life never goes as planned. Take 2020 for example.
That’s how the poem began and it developed into the Nazi-German siege of Paris on June 14, 1940. I took some creative liberty in my poem.
After four years of Nazi occupation, Paris was liberated on August 25, 1944.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less, click the frog to submit your flash fiction and read what others have written. Enjoy!