Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs

Paris morning, blue as glass,

Louvre lines, the hours pass.

Map in hand, but hearts off-route,

He says, “Turn left,” I just smile and shoot.

Street musicians start to play,

The Seine remembers yesterday.

Every bridge a little test,

Every laugh a sweet confess.

He keeps saying, “We should go,”

But I don’t want to know.

Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs,

Dripping sunlight, melting fast.

Vanilla lips, a stolen laugh,

Love disguised as photographs.

Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs,

One taste and the world unthaws.

Maybe we’re just tourists here,

Or maybe this is something clear.

Boat on the river, lights at noon,

Her hair a halo, silver bloom.

We talk of art and getting lost,

Pretend we don’t count what it cost.

The guide says, “Time to move along,”

But time just hums a brand-new song.

Every step a foreign beat,

Every glance a heart repeat.

If this is work, then I’m not through,

My job is learning her point of view.

Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs,

Dripping sunlight, melting fast.

Vanilla lips, a stolen laugh,

Love disguised as photographs.

Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs,

One taste and the world unthaws.

Maybe we’re just tourists here,

Or maybe this is something clear.

Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs,

The moment’s gone but not the spark.

Every lick, a sweet remark,

Paris signed its name on our hearts.

Champs-Élysées, Häagen-Dazs,

Melting fast, but made to last.

If love had flavour, I’d know because —

It tastes like Paris, just like us.