White Boots and a Love Letter

Paris on a quiet street. Feeling the heat underneath my feet. The city froze

as I wrote "Dear Love" on the edge of emotion, rising above.

A windy moment dropped a photo by my white boots. Pulling me back

to the place our story roots. I painted the words with colors of the heart.

Every word a chance, every sentence a start. It would've been

our one-year anniversary in May. But your voice echoed back in the wind that

day. Oh yeah, I wrote you a love letter in my white

boots. On a street where the roses all smelled new. Every word,