The Eiffel Tower

• Amy O'keeffe, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2013

The Eiffel Tower


A tower of iron. A tower of culture. She sits on the cold, hard ground of Paris, all alone. Named after Gustave Eiffel, her father, he’s left her there to stand still, a guard watching over the land, ever since 1889.
People from all around the world come to see her beauty, wonder and magnificence. The sun beams down on her, casts her shadow friend next to her and keeps her from feeling so lonely. But at the end of the day, as the sun falls off the edge of the earth, her only friend disappears into the soil.
As the day becomes night, it starts to grow chilly and gloomy. People start to leave to go home and have dinner, while she is still standing there. Her iron arms light up brightly, for all to see her in the darkness.
The trees and bushes close by to her, lead to a glowing path and the people driving past in their cars can’t keep their eyes off her beauty.
As the next day arrives, the clouds come marching in, roaring loudly like soldiers getting ready for battle. Millions of tiny little water drops fall from the sky. They roll down her face like tears.

Each day she goes through a lot.
The weather changes, she has no friends or family, and all she can do, is stand marooned.
She may be pretty, but underneath all that prettiness is a frown.