a study toward sonnet #495 by FisherKingKQJ
It's a yawning feeling which generates
The impetus to exclusive matters,
It's my hot, brusque kisses she venerates,
My huge hugs leave her credence in tatters.
My cognisant benevolence flatters...
Meantime, diners and busboys are wary
Of us two lovers whose cold fusion scatters
Ebullient laughs midst glances chary.
She plays out love's magnetism as scary
To both herself and me, so hard to gauge-
She looks like an old flame sweetly eerie,
With public navel gazing she acts her age.
The maitre d' is one to backstab and not cuss,
About our impulsive deeds, there's no fuss.
(Chorus)
The maitre d' is one to backstab and not cuss.
The maitre d' is one to backstab and not oath.
The maitre d' is one to backstab and not swear.
[Autocube3 - autocue for 3d interactive movies.]
HEARTS SPADES CLUBS DIAMONDS