Tony Woodlief | Author

And now for something completely different

I’ll not forget the charming maid
Who asked if I had been flambéed
And, seeing I knew little French,
Proceeded without pause to drench
My clothes with liquids dark and strong,
And purred I wouldn’t feel it long,
Then closed the door and dropped the latch
And asked me if I had a match.
What fun, I thought, she wants a candle,
Some atmosphere, perhaps some Handel,
And had my clothing so imbued
To set an odd, but sexy, mood.
But I was young and just delighted
For any spark to be ignited,
And life was made for love, for learning
French and femmes fatales, and burning.

From my friend Jay Curlin

On Key

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