Her presence vale of privies
Amid mere, stirring gentle eve
A summer lost, arid supple, a fragrance
A velvet morning mistral breeze
Deprival chills left, charms in her wakes
Atmospheres sheerly in le nude
This once Paris depresses without her gaiety
Where once brighter skies chaperoned through bluer halo moons
Smiles wide, lights up her rose touched cheeks
And above, neon signs sparkle, a twist of limelight into her eyes
This modern day avant-garde Mona Lisa
With sun-baked tresses that ample free out of celebrated life
The avenues of simper, spirited laughter ways
A-maze-ingly swathe the narrow streets in guise
Angel Maria de Medeiros, you have won my heart
But, France 'tis you, who has won this grander prize