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Miss Tawny Evermore

~ Dressed in almond taffeta, a salted evening throw With satin slipper grenadine, where crystal glasses flow I dreamt of Tawny Evermore, her hair a fired flame And songs now sung and played for her, shall never be the same Her cape of velvet after sheen, upon a braided stair Past portraits painted long ago, by artists everywhere Along a paisley corridor, its walls adorned in gold Another haven brings its scene, as moments do unfold Upon the sill, a vase it sits, chrysanthemums in bloom Their fragrance sends a subtle hint, about the waiting room When there within the vestibule, his hair a darkened weave With pearly whites so blinding that, the night could never leave His name Lord Count de Bullvereen, the second in a line So called to pass up brandy for a large carafe of wine Reflections of a shining soul alone for one to choose Unlike the mirror image found the polish of his shoes When down the stair, she did ascend, perfection in her grace Such beauty, he had never seen, euphoric was her face He took her hand, and with a bow so gently left a kiss Upon his own left pinkie for, on hers he came to miss She chuckled quite a quiet laugh, though everyone could hear As well, the footman with a smile now standing very near The count, he turned a shade of red, as anger soon was spawn Then grabbed his hat and walking stick, abruptly he was gone The footman and Miss Evermore then grinned and with a shrug Snuck off into another room where they then shared a hug It seems these two were something real, though silent due to class But that's okay, their fun was had, each day that came to pass He told her this, between a kiss that her, he did adore And like her name, Miss Tawny, he would love her "Evermore" And one more thing, before I go that maybe you can't see The footman, quite the handsome bloke, the truth is, he is me ~

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