Another Poem For Dml.
Remember the wine that was stirred
by Marshall Gass
with cherry red words
in a highball glass that looked back at us lazily
with one eye winking seduction?
Remember Paris and London
where the pages turned slowly and the tourist
buses zipped past the Champs D Elysee
and London Tower and Soho
framed in a window of opportunity
never undressed before?
Remember the postcards with glossy
pigeons and castles and 'nights' in shining amour
that balanced long lances and ladies
and charged on steeds of grey metal four poster beds
that creaked and groaned under the weight
of many escapades?
Remember that we are poets who play with words
rousing and rustic, that embark on the imagination
and course through the heart searching
for ventricles and valleys that glisten and glow
with newly discovered meanings
each time we lift the skirt of its greater
idiom and chuckle with laughter
at being caught out?
Just another poem for DML who makes the nicest comments and meets me on a level playing field - all the time.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.