Delicto Flagrante
She likes little treats,
a touch cheeky, piquante;
delicto flagrante,
much too much cream
on the side
and a tarte apéritif,
the entrée
to a main course
One must feast with the eyes
She sighs on an olive,
remnant of groves
alive on the hillsides
sun kissed, aromatic,
a charismatic
interlude
she does love
a little pampering
the dampening of candles
on a table dressed
perhaps
over stressed
She lets a moué
slip past her lips
a little purse
in her lap
feeding morsels,
like parcels
of succulent flesh,
fruits out of season,
airborne, flown to her side
dipped and licked
a stone flicked
in the flames
Just a little fuel
to her appetite
the pine scented fire
delightfully flickering
a clock ticking
rhythmically designed
art déco
head to one side
she'll dine
on desire.
Poetry by Elle
Read 385 times
Written on 2022-01-09 at 08:05
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 by Elle Latest textsMarchFebruary New Year Christmas Eve Two Little Cats |
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