The Last Chance

The Last Chance was like a gunshot, A Digger who met Artemisia almost like nought, It moved, it flowed, It conquered the lands of Romans Binned with a flick of a finger in a sentence Tapped on a tip of her tongue with no repentance. The mistral covered the distance All the way to the Viking lands The booze? Nothing to choose, The words like amadou ignited fires In her eyes behind mystery and glasses, She easily outclasses Many and all, - masses. The chatter like on a billiard-table Rippled the imagination Abundance of inspiration, the time did not matter, It flattered, It enhanced, He has not glanced But looked through the darkened cover Aiming for the eyes, The highest prize, Lean, intense and moral The moment captured, smile almost floral! Fain to go, both were freely, Fair skin, youthful and natural Whence it comes, whence it always come? Hope is from the heart, Thrown to fly on a Cupid’s dart!