She was the best teacher of Voltaire’s tongue a pupil could
ask for.
She made me love the most beautiful language on earth.
She made me dream of Paris.
Before I graduated from school, I promised myself that one day
I would see Paris with my own eyes.
I used to picture myself in the company of La Tour Eiffel as
the very first thing to do in Paris once I set foot in the City of
Lights.
My dream came true when I grew up.
Once in Paris, the very first thing I did indeed was to greet
the Eiffel Tower.
My steps took me to Trocadéro Place.
Hello Beauty!
I stood beneath the radiant sky of Paris,
My heart dancing with anticipation,
Hypnotized by the majestic view of the Eiffel Tower.
She stood tall,
A graceful iron giant reaching for the heavens,
Her lattice structure woven into delicate lace.
The Tower’s elegant silhouette painted against the backdrop of
the Parisian sky,
Casting an ethereal glow upon the city,
As if the stars themselves had descended to earth to witness
her splendor.
La Tour Eiffel, a beacon of hope and inspiration, whispered
stories of passion and longing,
Reminding me that within her intricate framework, dreams and
love were captured in a timeless embrace.
And I am still grateful to my teacher of French for making me
fall in love with Paris.
