by
Mike Berger
Her eyes glistened in the candlelight.
Her skin was smooth against her vermillion dress.
Her smile was subtle; Mona Lisa like.
Her lips were full, as she drank the red wine.
Her auburn hair caressed her cheek.
The sparkle in her eyes radiated through the room.
She touched my cheek and pulled me close.
Her warm breath filled my ear…
She softly whispered, "Please pass the garlic bread.”
4 comments:
Ha! Ha! Surprise!
Interesting and you had me right up to the garlic bread.
Great writing!
I love humor and this one had me rolling. Nice job!
I'm with you Cynthia -
I'm waiting for something big to happen and BAM! garlic bread. And for me, being a horror writer, I was waiting for her head to not be attached or it be a zombie or something.
I will never look at garlic bread with thinking of this poem!
Jim
cute - fun - funny!
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