by Steven Gulvezan
Susan paused upon the portico
To gaze upon the draper's assistant
Hanging curtains in her chamber
His face so waxen white
She wondered if he had dipped
Into the alabaster cream
Hidden in the top drawer
Of her dressing table
But when he turned his head
And their visions locked
His blazing coal-black eyes
Instantly transfixed her
And, flushed and slightly panting,
She inquired huskily of this lad
If he might desire to step down
From his ladder and join her
In her boudoir to eat his fill
Of her sweet morning muffin
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