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Lipstick shadows of martyred sidewalk saints blew poison kisses from her lips
Years in the conservatory taught her art and never need to change her story
Part secret waves of midnight sacred costumes and the colours that she wore
On village pathways in smoky jazz cafes with the ever changing cast that played
That old nouveau music scene where lovers preen and strut dusk to light
She learned to write of broken heart rites and the rituals of Love's oeuvre,
Dancing crazy circles of laughter, holding court with ever after long lost Night
Madame was pretty as a painting hanging in sunbeams in the Louvre.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2016-06-12 at 00:46
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Madame In Sunbeams
Madame was pretty as a painting hanging in sunbeams in the LouvreLipstick shadows of martyred sidewalk saints blew poison kisses from her lips
Years in the conservatory taught her art and never need to change her story
Part secret waves of midnight sacred costumes and the colours that she wore
On village pathways in smoky jazz cafes with the ever changing cast that played
That old nouveau music scene where lovers preen and strut dusk to light
She learned to write of broken heart rites and the rituals of Love's oeuvre,
Dancing crazy circles of laughter, holding court with ever after long lost Night
Madame was pretty as a painting hanging in sunbeams in the Louvre.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 737 times
Written on 2016-06-12 at 00:46
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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