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Have they yet arrived? The throng asked; they looked like a mob.
Who is it? The Queen Mother? Queried an elegant snob.
Better than that, one said as a limousine pulled up; a cat strutted out.
It‘s John Singer Sargent’s Madame X and Monsieur Z without a doubt!

Monsieur Z turned to give the commoners an elegant gracious bow.
Then he gave his paw to Madame X, who emerged looking like a wow.
The crowd went wild, throwing carnations and roses in their path.
They took their time, trying to ignore the cheers and aftermath.

Their evening out was the talk of all London, for it had been awhile.
The Examiner had the best photo now of Monsieur Z with a huge smile.
Madame X’s photographs were mostly of her sweet luscious behind.
Her satin black dress draped so low, these photos would be a find.

You are beautiful Madame X assured his comrade, Monsieur Z.
Expecting a forthcoming compliment, but it was not to be.
She did not want to give him false hope, for she loved another.
She was actually thinking of pawing him off on her mother.

He was seven years old, so in cat years that was forty-two.
Whereas she was twenty one, and had lots of living to do.
Let’s go home early, he whispered in her ear, with cat-like hope.
She thought it was a great idea; with her mother he could watch a TV soap.

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