My sweet little gran-mire is 94 Years old. She still works, as the chairwoman of the family trust - you can call her “Godfather.”
The “frail old lady” is a humorous disguise she dons to bamboozle the unwitting - think tiger stripes.
Don’t be fooled, or lulled and don’t ever try to BS her. The business cosmos wheels behind those eyes. Her heart was replaced with an abacus, centuries ago. She’s met everyone in the world who matters. She has body guards and minions.
Tonight there’s a small birthday party at the Musée Marmottan Monet (museum) in Paris.
When she comes in, the 40 or so guests formed an impromptu receiving line - so I queued up too.
Stewards regularly pass and I manage to gulp down two flûtes of champagne while on line (I LOVE Paris). This has the makings of a great party.
Finally, it was my turn. we cheek kissed (fait la bise). I took her small, gloved hand in mine and it struck me that little white gloves are genius.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I said inching closer because the music was loud, “Nothing tops a big-budget party.” I said. “We agree.” she said with a nod. “Happy Birthday.” I mouthe. We la bise again and I moved on so the conga-line could progress.
Ooo! Another steward!
Imagine what all you could experience in 94 years.
Proudly he handles the bottle, bellowing about her as if she were a person
She's not fine wine, she's aged wine. kept in the dark; alone with her thoughts low in the earth; like a corpse and given all the time in the world to ferment; she's rotting
Her glass is smooth you see, and cool to the touch; like the pavement on which she fell The curves are unique to every bottle; her carcass so pretty And the deepest green you'll ever see on a bottle; like her eyes
I have preserved her so! To keep her how she should be! that's how he wanted to see me
She has aged well, for almost 20 years you see. still as young as ever
But this is a special occasion; they found me Go fetch some glasses; I can hear them digging And we'll celebrate her.
your head laying on my chest in the still hours of the night reminds me of tree branches dancing in the moonlight
your lips moving over the peaks of my ******* sends memories of us flowing into my head like water rippling up to a river bed
your love is like skipping stones on a calm lake, when you look at me I feel these walls I’ve built start to break, and the barbed wire around me start to deteriorate
I’ve never known a love so true
I’ve never fallen for a boy like you
when you kiss me I see comets and cosmos, and shooting stars too, I feel the pull of the earth and the coolness of the moon, I feel the ground shake beneath me and flowers start to bloom in all the cracks and crevices, can’t you smell the perfume?
if you are truly mine, now and forever, then I’ve loved you since the dawn of time when we were just visions and thoughts in God’s glorious mind
you are the wind rushing through my hair, you are the creaks in the steps going up the stairs
you are the home where I want to rest my head, just to wake up in the morning and do it all again.
I love you effortlessly, like the clouds love the sky. I’ll say it again and again til it’s etched in the scrolls of time
your love keeps me high, it’s pure and utter bliss; can you feel the butterfly wings flutter as we kiss?
like the dew on a blade of grass at dawn, you kiss my palm, I love you baby because you’re warm and sweet like cardamom.
i woke up alone again and the last sips of champagne still rest in the glass we shared drinking from last night the bed sheets still carry your fragrance which otherwise wouldn't have been remembered and the ashtray, laying within two burned out cigarettes, smoked after the sensational miracle of love
but anyways, no goodbye note no message i woke up, again