The noise of artificial winter was white
Masking slight airy tendrils
Stealing frosty kisses, seemingly
Inviting featherless geese to rise upon limbs
She sat still, silent, stoic.
Staring surreptitiously at the speaker
Smiling softly at speech spoken sonorously
With a smooth succinct style
Tilted head exuding poise
Atop elegant pillar of demure strength
She rocked one lock
Draped over ebon shoulder
Caressing nape
As if
Daring one to issue challenge
‘gainst her right to her own
Shifting in her seat
She looked at home in that plastic throne
Genteel hands flitted to lips
Failing to halt the bubble of laughter
Indicative of mirth unearthed,
Divined midst Spoken Word.
Surely she possessed a fine ear
And mind intimate with wit
To woo I was at once bit
By muse of thought
To pen nameless empress
Who rocked one lock
Glen ‘Charlie Roots’
Toussaint 2013©
