Parisian evening

She moved

They watched

Moving with consummate grace and poise

The heels of her manolo blahniks made a deft tapping noise

She knew all eyes were transfixed on her

And she loved it

She sashayed as though she didn't have a care

Her sweet scent lingered alluringly in the Parisian air

Luxurious wavy hair gently cascaded down her spine

She looked high fashion

Fine clothes being her passion

Svelte frame

The way she appeared it was apparent that she wasn't the same

An intoxicated man rose from his perch to make a toast to her beauty

Swaying and rambling in French

He drunkenly believed that it was his duty






Demola, TCC