Still in lunch's afterglow,
Gleaning words so apropos—
(Yes, one last one—l'enfant en rose—
See her charming pointed toes?)
I blush in rainbowed hue's delight,
While ruminating devil's plight—
Advocating fairies' dust— pale,
Yet glittering, sparkling, to entail
The sweetest spell so silvery mild—
Pourquoi—toujours—the "inner child?"
"Le grande resistance—je sais!" Erelong,
Though, Sophia, your lucid gong
Resounds Machiavellian smooth—
La vie en rose, maintenant, je trouve:
Your tapestry, "l'ouvert" door,
Shuttles consciousness to explore—
Threads of joy, of love, of you—
Warping, wefting nascent hue!
To change one's mind—a woman's game;
Mais jamais, jamais banal et tame!