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Lady Fini
I imagine your thoughts to trail off in French,
Politely demanding the finest pâté,
Then taking repose on a Tuileries bench.
An elegant lady dressed in all black,
Sipping Merlot on l’Île Saint-Louis,
Your citrine gaze ever poised to attack.
You are not one for sunshine,
A queen of the night,
My little feline!
Are you the trapped soul of Simone de Beauvoir?
Mon petit chat noir.
Copyright ©
Kate Davies
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