In the Mood

Laura was couer-shaped, the way her knees blossomed out, magenta, genie-like sheer. She blew kisses like cultivated fleurs de jour. Her drooping necklace, a frolic of felicity. Laura’s bodysuit pink — a glittering off the shoulder bonbon, holding perfect ample and youthful bosoms. Sam was blond, a sunny-yellow brooding type. As Laura faced West, He faced East. She leaned against his ebony suit. He wore a bowtie, not one that spins; a scholarly erudite. His cerulean shirt bleeds deep in his heart, blue skies infused into his profound eyes. The third party, a french painter — a poet, a woman’s woman. Her husband gathered the flotsam — driftwood to hang on my wall. Romantic whimsy gets me in the mood. 8/10/2020