Salut
She is happy in her wayeating biscuits
in her apartment
overlooking Garden City.
There was a time
once
when she sunbathed topless
but that was before
she discovered biscuits pur buerre.
She nibbles quite delicately
so as not to leave a crumb
they call her
Madam
though a ring, she has not.
Avant
she was Mademoiselle
but that was before
biscuits spread her girth
Tonight she will gorge,
vin rouge,
write a poem
about lost love.
she will savour every mouthful,
shed a tear
nonchantly shrug
with a glint
and say
Bonne Nuit
Salut
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2016-02-07 at 19:36
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