Little green road-sweeper in Paris
The story behind the poem
It is a warm early
evening in summer and I am standing on a balcony, looking down on a
square somewhere in central Paris.
There is a beautiful pink light bathing the old limestone buildings
around the square and as the light goes, one of those little green
road-sweepers appears almost as if operating itself - frantically
cleaning the streets below.
And someone whistles like a beautiful flute as they cross the
square.
by Maria Joy Read the poem
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