Mornings
By Silver Spun Sand
Mon, 13 Jan 2014
- 1629 reads
11 comments
She takes her coffee black –
takes a shower; steps into
her Dior panties, with satin
bows on, fastens her Chantelle
brassiere with guipure lace.
Unclips her hair from its chignon –
lets it fall – do its own thing,
tendrils coyly flirting with her face.
Quips, ‘Bonjour’ to the cat
as she makes the bed – this
white, winter morning...white
as the sheets – sunlight streaked.
Clutching a commotion
of carmine-pink camellias,
and a dizziness of daffodils
her hint of a whisper of a dress
swishes as she minces – all
kitten-heeled and pony-tailed,
and you could hear a pin drop...
on the Bedpan line; namely
the eight-thirty – fast,
to King’s Cross.
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Comments
So that's why women look so
Permalink Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
So that's why women look so beautiful, eh? Great poem Tina.
Richard L. Provencher
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Tina, you gave my wife some
Permalink Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Tina, you gave my wife some ideas. Ha. Ha. R.
Richard L. Provencher
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You gave some wonderful..
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
You gave some wonderful...vivid observations in this poem Tina. Almost flirting with the reader. I loved the Frenchness of it too.
Jenny.
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These comments are high ratio
These comments are high ratio of males...strange, that. She's an absolute sex kitten. The soft swish of your language made me salivate. I want to stare at her, absorb her beauty.
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