smokingboot

The National Museum's very cool, though I didn't really see it the way I like to, didn't get to soak it all in because I was with chum and we were nattering, a different kind of fun.
Place and company lifted my spirits.

And I have a lot to do today, so here are some bits before stuff must be done.

Like every femme fatale the poppy knows
That redheads rule the world with crimson glows
So scarlet slim, so tall, crisp-edged in black
Why then what rival dares to stare her back?
The rose perhaps, with thorns quick on display,
May loftily suggest to put away
The heart's deep amaranth would be
Far more becoming to a true lady.
Yes, she who folds herself in petals maze
Might wince to see how bold returns the gaze
Of Poppy who, fearing no decadent,
Murmurs "if you, by day, desires repent,
And shrink to see me dance in Helios' beams,
Know that I hold the purse of hidden dreams
With power to make each pain of old take flight,
And wait for you by promise of the night."

And also, a photo of me which I like, simply because I've never seen myself as fantasy haglady, more evocative than a brown-haired brown-eyed massive freckle with exploding suitcase.