Bottles of Joy were scattered on her marble floor. Her boy’s the lovliest and merriest ever seen in Paris.
His tousled mouse brown hair rests like a halo round his permanently blushed cheeks. You haven’t you seen lashes as long as his since Joseph and the temptress’s slit wrists. A congenial kohl marks the rim of his hazel eyes. Hazel, the Parisian peach of this phebe’s dormant eyes, looked on, her apple red lips parted in admiration of the scene before her. Her smile surpassed Sahara’s sun, her cheek hollows were deeper than a ruddy peach whose seed had been plucked. If the boy had been awake, he would be trying at fitting his thumb( still covered in chocolatefrom last night’s fondue fountain) into the dimple.
Can you see the joy of the young two?
Can you feel Joseph’s likeness smiling against your cheek.
P.S. -The lovers will dance on silver roads when they awake.