in the days of marie,
paris was just a little girl
and versailles, versailles was a woman-
a divine mistress, now aged.
the modern world has torn beauty to shreads
replacing the simple with complex
ovetures with beats.
yet some things remain simplistic-
some women remain versailles.
fools rush into love
fall over passion
hungry for lusts oatmeal cookies
and loves semi-sweet burn.
it’s an affair that’s long run it’s course.
but love’s more than just a fools dream,
some says it’s the path untouched,
pure in emotions,
lost in the hearts delicious fever.
one of soaring heights,
and even more impressive byiast.
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