poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Repas du soir
A finger holds whilst the blade slices, the studied practice of an ancient art; A threek, a decanter - the tools and devices of warm seduction to compel my heart A finicky recipe she follows from sources eclectic and queer; with herbs and spices are stuffed the hollows of tender beast soaked in batter of beer What fey magic in her loving touch to thus handle the fabric of life my tummy and spirit to feed so well and much that I should look upon her and see wife! So an evening is filled, with merriment and feast or the luxury of comfort, at the very least But after, retire - my love - your eve's work is done I'm soon to follow, to snow white sheets and hugs and kisses and special treats where home awaits, and rest well won 15-I-04
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
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