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A Somewhere Paris Cafe

A haze… Languorous oft in summer days Where sundrops drip From melting skies Onto city grind And parasols shade the cobbled grays Across back alley lanes Trains and trolleys tip toe by As a fool in love forever waits Among a noon bistro Paris crowd For his girl, who is always fashionably late Outside a sidewalk somewhere café cityscape Young beauties amidst a mid-day stroll Becomingly, become ever respectively The flowers that line the picket way Or some frilly prize ponies Beneath carousels about avenues of Torrid place A testament to this… The carriage horses that turn their whiny heads And then, when I turn mine It’s to witness boots of cavalier instead That step to one side For moments languor has left As my own prize has made red carpets rise Those flutter lashes like shotguns glint blasts And soon the white dove makes its notorious descent Where the gentlemen, unbeknownst to them, become like minded ruffians As they dive into madness for her precious handkerchief “Oh” this women of mine, she has her perculiar ways Just like all the silly rest My damsel mademoiselle never enters into throes of distress Longer lace invites mischievous about a button down dress And her kisses offer smiles and arduent waves With utter love contempt to them, but my hand is her biggest praise I guess it’s the thrill of the game And she’s the tigress and I her willful prey Opening up the Gazette, coffee I incredulous sip and purposely hide my face As my sweet flora strolls my way And lands into her lover's arms In a somewhere summer Paris afternoon café