written by: Anne G
A porcelain teacup etched in gold, adorned with tiny fragile flowers
transports me to the days of yore when we were young, and joie de vivre.
Of springtime, when the sun shone bright upon our faces, tres jolie.
Of endless days and nights divine, damsels, gents, and coquetry.
We lived and loved, we were so free!
With pirouettes, and sass - sashay, we danced and pranced our youth away.
A pretty dream and memories are yet reflected in that tiny cup,
so fragile and so innocent.
Another life in reverie, of springtime, and that Belle Époque.
I write because I am:
Driven to distraction by the inequities of the society in which we live.
Motivated by cruelty, abuse, ignorance and indifference.
My intention:To poke, prod and provoke!
"Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." - Oscar Wilde