~ * ~
Icing a cake,
7 Quincunx
~ * Trade Winds,
A Florentine Shoppe * ~
The Greatest Trivia Trove
Ever ...
"Tee Oh,
Will you please
Let me know
Next time
You plan to go ~
I'll bring coupons."
~ If you see Kay
"Grey Poupon
And Peppermint Spy, my expert source,
Retort ~
'No need for your coupon.
Your credit, your ability, your esteemed integrity
Stand strong enough stead for us, more
Than fine enough.'
Yes, mon cher, Kay, come, sport
And frolic together, we, and up well go, an arpeggio
Of steps ascend to that Grande Double Door,
O, a twist of the wrought~ iron handle,
Viola ~ ! There we are, atop a stair,
Breathless in awe, our inspecting eye surmises,
Yes, a trade wind-blown chime
Well-mined for our together time, a fortuitous fortune,
Where Cardinal corners adjoin.
A dove's feathered Green Tail retails, too,
Our store,
Our intersection,
Our cross roads yielding storied elevation,
The heart's invention made right, made
Might, mind, light, and matter
Mine, yours, ours ~
Our Hours,
Our Sacred Pleasures,
Our Profane,
Where what's in storage,
Glass display, a soul's journey books passage,
Embarks toward. Desire
Not Envy,
Yields golden currency, platinum riches,
Delicacies for dining, spices for sparking, red breeches
For dressing, prancing, and disrobing,
And more, we must,
For a single visit, surmise. But lust
Or ravenous hunger sparked for nourishing fare
Should not one fear. Savor well, wear
Well your pouting smile, your two
Lips, O, so plump, O, so perfectly ripe
For picking,
Or teeming fizzing mind's
Buzzing pollination.
So plan, expect, we must
Or our appointed perambulation,
Our ascension's visit, for lust
Ambulates aimlessly, a spring's sprung
Undone ~
A Golden Season's hormonal riot raucously rips,
Shreds air, my mind, my body despairs,
Alas, to mend this rapture rent torn,
Worn, by my desire.
O, yes,
That Florentine Shoppe spreads sumptuously
Before us. The path, yes, well paved,
The map,
Well known. But O, woe,
How well we know, the time, the date, our rendezvous,
So unclear, so often crossed, starry odds,
So haphazard, our constellation,
We, sp often lost, we must
Coordinate our travel itinerary."
~ Twittering
"A better map, our Filofax, too,
We need.
Perhaps, yes, we consult a cartographer, our seed
Catalogue's almanac, as well, to chart
These far-off seas."
~ Folly
"Or, perhaps, Ms.
Orion, Zoe, our astrologer, hears our whine,
May answer with Celestial direction,
A well-sited starry map, perfection's
Plan ~ Yours, ours, mine.
So, I say, next ascent, if you or I go,
Please ask for me, and I, for you.
My retort, may answer now, whenever you care,
Whenever you wish, yes, fine with us,
Fine with Folly and me."
~ Twittering
"Arrivederci, Kay,
For now, for off we go.
You, too, Chardonnay ..."
~ Folly
"Yes, indeed, for now,
Arrivederci.
For further essential direction, just follow
The arrow ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ >
13 Arrondissement ~ >"
~ Chardonnay
