she opens a pack of sheffield english typeΒ Β number five cigarettes i rest my head in her lap as she reads a french newspaper its raining in paris and theres a girl there who is unhappy dreams of romantic places never have sad girls in them she must be a tourist
she sips some strange brew of teas that has a heavy bouquet loam and flowers..like a sweet wine she suddenly laughs and translates a piece of the french news for me but i dont hear what she says i only hear the rich beauty of her voice i only hear the captivating beauties of her i lean up and kiss her she tastes of the sea and english cigarettes i am lost in her essence and her her girlish delights
she pokes me and makes me look at a photograph in the paris newspaper...its the sad girl she looks english that graceful beautiful elegant sadness that only english girls can speak without ever saying a word jezebel sips her tea and smokes her english sheffield cigarette holding it like girls hold cigarettes in that dainty way i forget the english girl and her sadness as i lay looking into the eyes of this dreadlock hippie queen janis joplin plays softly from her mp3 shes tapping her bejewelled toes to the ancient music bachelors in literature she loves the written word she has read everything ever written by anyone she has read her way through forty years worth of poetry by me and corrected my atrocious spelling along the way this is morning in her arms now you know why i am so in love with her now you see why she is everything to me she leans down and lays a single tender kiss on my cheek and tells me she loves me this is heaven