host of the night:
her hair: flow like the bird’s wings –
free from Cage; first taste of wind. pure silk in snow!
on top: donning a floral crochet pattern
and a chiffon-lined, pleated skirt;
champagne velvet-lace sash for a waistband –
Rosso Corsa painted lips and matching obsidian eyes –
an artist of her own.
beauty, of no words.
the boldness of her style, brave –
the honesty in her speech, poised –
the grace of her stance, refined –
the radiance in her smile, sincere –
the iridescence in her eyes, passionate –
the shape of her breasts, complementing
but upon elegance, she built her presence. from here, I can see
all eyes on her as she walked in.
they know her for a woman of dignity and honour
they see her past her beauty, but so naturally
out of the ordinary, they do
willingly. she sat at the VIP dinner table
as she always does –
still, with her heart in her hand,
helped the teenaged waitress-girl clean up the spilt caviar,
and they stand up
she left me one of her smiles –
tainted caviar on a tray –
I walked back to prepare a new serving.
originally published: 29 Oct 2015