Beautiful Oiselle

Walking out of the airport lounge,

I saw this lady.

A little anxious but waiting,

She seemed to be in transit.

I was in a trance. It

Wasn’t just her

Slow hair whips, beckoning eyes and shape

That blew me away.

OK, I’ll be on my way.

But before I fly, I have to wait

Like others, at her gate.

“You are madam …?”

“Madam Oiselle” her lips giggled.

Beautiful Oiselle,

An oasis — it seems.

A gift

I would offer — something,

“A meal?”

“Oui, Mille pièces d’or,” she said.

“Anything for you to ride with me.”

“Alors, quarante mille pièces d’or.”

I was processing…With her I’d like to ride,

But a car for our first meal?! What an expense…

“Si vous voulez, parlez!”

Stressing on the ‘r’ — at this hour.

Pause beauty, “You aren’t late — yet” I replied.

“Your number maybe?”

Daccord…

Code de France, huit, quarante mille

Et vingt,” she said hastily.

I didn’t get it; she kept conditioning.

I would stick to just her number.

But she now wanted car and meal and wine.

I love wine from the many French regions;

I just had a lot of it — Well, I think.

That’s what the lounge waiter told me

Les Vins…

Départ…

Too

Late it is now — anyway;

We’ve parted.

Besides, I don’t have a car in this city;

I’m in a taxi.

My Oiselle is gone to Paris.


Engineer | Everything Energy | Story-telling and Poetry. “Don’t let them write your story! Use your pen so they don’t erase your identity.” – From Me.
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Engineer | Everything Energy | Story-telling and Poetry. “Don’t let them write your story! Use your pen so they don’t erase your identity.” – From Me.
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