With the somewhat exaggerated horn rims
Of my all but cosmetic glasses
Perhaps you would hand me a glass of still water
At room temperature, and a cherry or a plum
I have reluctantly said no to lavender
But a pale, very pale, saffron may just about disturb the
universe
To the very tiny extent that I want it to shift
To make room for my voice of sweet reasonableness
And endearing whimsy
Before it gets comfortable again
Pleased with me for making it ever so comfortably
uncomfortable
That it will invite me again and again
To beautiful silky places
With delicately delicious food
And scented listeners
I must to Bruges next
55