Stone Angel Illustrated by Keith Supley

Watching over
one small grave
granite palms
exposed to rain
and snow.
You seem to know
the secret of repose.

Is it that your
heart is still,
mind clear
of worldly cares?
Or simply
how meaningful
a part you play   
for those who       
put you there.

                 Susan Supley 

Parisian Rhapsody By Susan Supley

A magical place                                                                             
lived in  dreams
that came to be.
He moaned her name,
hands in her hair,
moved to her song,
while a city waited
to share secrets.

Jean Paul and Simone
lying together under
cold pink marble in
Montparnasse, left
one to wonder..

Street people
wrapped in layers
of coats and scarves
huddle at a mouth
of the Metro in
shadow of the Louvre.
Asleep on pasteboard,
tented in bright plastic,
are they unaware,
as they seem to be,
of crowds that step
around their lair?

Ghosts of Ulysses,
Alice B. Toklas and
others lurk in corners
of the little bookstore,
tucked away in view
of Notre Dame,
gargoyles smile
grimly over all.
They know secrets.