Face rounded in smileEyes in joyous slit closedTo my gaze she ponderedA silent question in her regale
With bowed nimble eyelashes, my aquiline nose glistening hot in daze of your…
“Oh, it’s you,” Carla said, sinking down into her chair a little.
Saturdays bore the mark of cosmic alignment, Sundays blessedly hungover. Restless Mondays…