February Whispers of Paris

February walks softly along the Seine,

wrapped in a silver scarf of mist and rain.

The city breathes in muted hues of grey,

where winter lingers, yet begins to sway.

Bare trees sketch poems on the pale-blue sky,

while lamps glow warm as quiet hours pass by.

Cafés exhale the comfort of embrace,

steam rising slow, like dreams time can’t erase.

Footsteps echo on old cobblestone streets,

each sound a memory Paris repeats.

Balconies wait with roses yet unborn,

patient for light in the chill of morn.

The Eiffel Tower hums a tender sigh,

as clouds drift low and pigeons fly.

Love writes itself in glances brief,

in shy smiles shaped by winter’s leaf.

February—soft, restrained, and kind—

teaches the heart to walk unlined.

For in the hush before spring’s art,

Paris whispers straight into the heart.

                                  — Meenakshi Singh