Supplication
I do not presume
But I would like a little something
Three cascading drops of pearls
Falling from her earlobe
In ascending order of size
Elegant arch of a disdainful pale face
Red bow lips and sleek mouse
Coloured hair
Tearing away the gaze as eye
Catches eye - his eyes
Enquiring yet non-committal
Hot nor cold
Holding worlds of possibility
And of nothing
We slide on along the
Gravy train.
Try this, try that, Sir, Madame.
Till we find the seat to slot
Ourselves
Into.
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