She takes off her horn-rimmed glasses
She rubs her eyes, “what a mess”
I take her in my arms, whispering,
“It’s time to remove this dress”
I send her towards a waiting bath
Time to reconstitute our dreams
I love that woman something fierce
I smirk, planning the night’s schemes
Red lipstick & a tight ponytail
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set
Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch
Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free
Image by Kelsey Vere from Pixabay
Captain Q 