There was Beatrice and there was Fay.
And on one fine summer's day
Beatrice said to Fay
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
And Fay, she had her back turned, as she twisted the top half of her body around. Paintbrush in one hand, palette in the other.
"Sure thing," she smiled, and for a moment she and Beatrice locked eyes.
Their souls connected and intertwined