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Poems

Pete Leon Oct 2017
Tarte Tatin Man,
He wears pears on his hands,
And he glistens like lamb,
He's Tarte Tatin Man.

Tarte Tatin Man,
He's originally from France,
And has a cousin who's a flan,
He's Tarte Tatin Man.

Tarte Tatin Man,
He wears a coat made of pans,
And bathes in butter, not jam,
He's Tarte Tatin Man.

Tarte Tatin Man,
I feel we finished this dance,
Till we meet again, perchance,
Goodbye Tarte Tatin Man.
Ocean Blue Oct 2015
To sit with you
At the* Café Palais Royal
It has black and white awning ;
Their
Tarte Tatin, hmm quel régal !
The view from there ? Never boring.

We have a table
en terrasse,
In the corner of the Rue de Valois,
One block from my office.
The neighborhood ?
De très bon aloi.

You order a café crème,
While I sip your smile.
I’m about to whisper
Je t’aime,
*But it’s like walking on a land mine.

So I just look at you,
Oh if you could let me drawn you
In my ocean blue.

Later, we walk to  that bridge
Where we locked our love
Billions of longings ago
.
D . for Darling,
The locks are gone,
They were just too heavy
For my fists.
You can try many tricks,
But life has to go,
On and on.