The VisitorA Poem by David Lewis PagetI asked the woman where she came from, She didn’t utter a word, But stood outside on the landing where She wouldn’t be seen, or heard. She glided into the bedroom then And dropped her gown on the floor, Then climbed up onto the four poster A thing I couldn’t ignore. The name embroidered upon the gown Was one, a Lucie La Corte, It lay there crumpled upon the ground, A thing of beauty, I thought, But far more beautiful, there she lay Within the reach of my hand, With silken skin that had reeked of sin Inviting love on demand. I caught the scent of wisteria The fragrance rose from her breast, I felt close to hysteria, Like I was put to the test, I lay and stared at her shapely form And thought, how could I resist, But then I noticed the branding mark An ugly Fleur de lis. It sat high on her shoulder there To tell what she had done, Some grim crime from another time And an execution… I heard her sigh as she raised one thigh Then I saw her eyes had teared, Her teardrops fell, and she broke the spell For then she had disappeared. If ever you’re visiting Paris And those evil streets, and mean, Beware, the hotel you stay is not Called ‘Madame La Guillotine’, Or you may lie in a poster bed As I did, god help the thought, And watch as the visitor sidles in The one, a Lucie La Corte. David Lewis Paget
© 2017 David Lewis PagetReviews
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4 Reviews Added on August 26, 2017 Last Updated on August 26, 2017 Tags: gown, embroidered, wisteria, branding Author
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