Messages

He comes to me arms filled with blooms
to make my eyes light up with joy,
so many flowers from one boy
who’s hoping to create a mood
with chocolate, which he consumes,
hoping it leads to sleeping rooms.

I cannot thwart so keen a heart
who arms himself with sweet cliché
and dreams to steal my heart away,
but household help he still rejects
as woman’s labor a la carte—
paying a maid would be a start.

What men assume a woman needs
is often so far off the mark
like farming camels in a park,
when our desires are oft mundane—
lawn care or vacuuming, such deeds
create the feast where loving feeds.

Marie

Marie Elena