In Montreal's embrace, where rivers gently weave,
A linguistic tapestry, where diverse voices heave.
French, like a blooming flower, its petals unfold,
In the midst of tongues foreign, a tale to be told.
Through cobbled streets, a fragrant bouquet,
Languages entwined, in a dance they sway.
Accents like petals, in a melody they twirl,
A symphony of voices, a linguistic whirl.
A garden of tongues, each a vibrant hue,
Foreign whispers, like morning dew.
Travelers lost in Canada's vast expanse,
Find refuge in Montreal, a poetic chance.
The fragrance of perfumes, a sweet-scented air,
Mingles with accents, a sensory affair.
Quebecois French, distinct and inviting,
A dialect that's charming, endlessly exciting.
In this linguistic garden, where cultures align,
Words bloom like flowers, intertwining vines.
Montreal, a refuge for travelers and more,
A canvas of languages, an inviting lore.
Through cobblestone alleys, where stories are weaved,
The aroma of languages, like flowers perceived.
French, the fragrant blossom, in Montreal's embrace,
A poetic journey, where diverse tongues grace.
Montreal, QC (Feb. 2024)
Thinking about my french
© Kossi Ntiafalali Aziagba
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