Black Lace and Burgundy
By Silver Spun Sand
- 2161 reads
Catlike, her fingers stalk the keys;
Für Elise from memory.
Con espressione, indeed
her masterful cadenza.
Momentarily, she pauses.
Time to make my move, enquire
maybe she’d like some wine.
A melodious Irish lilt precedes
her mellifluous Moonlight Sonata.
I pour our drinks. Place hers
on the Steinway baby-grand.
Burgundy and black lace,
a heady combination.
“Well, thank you,” she says.
“Nice hotel, this. Such
appreciative clientele.”
I bid her, “Do sit down.”
Pat the cushion beside me.
And so she does, smoothes
her dress, lights a cigarette.
It smoulders in the ashtray
crimson traced.
She touches my hand – bids
me undress her.
Politely I oblige,
slip them off, inch on inch,
those delicious cocktail gloves
made from black Breton lace.
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Comments
'Catlike, her fingers stalk
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Magic picked out THE line,
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