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Performance
He was the consummate performer,
tongue so adept his
words filled her void
taking her to
dizzying heights
where the feeling lingered
and the sighs were long,
she moaned and
along the carriage
faces stared,
it wasn’t her stop
but her performance
was over.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
It wasn’t her stop 🛑
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🙂 What does one do ? 🙂
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Nice work! Him, and you. 😉
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Thanks, much appreciated, 😉
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The long tongue of the lover, eh” Hee, hee, hee…
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Indeed Tom, Indeed, 🙂
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Thank you so much Sir for the awesome poem.
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🙂
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Thank you so much for the awesome poem.
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Thanks for reading and reflecting back Francis 🙂
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Most welcome Sir
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Excellent!👌👌
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Thank you Richa 🙂
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“His words filled her void” is such a precise description on so many levels. I love this poem!
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“It wasn’t her stop, but the performance was over” … a lovely phrase to remember!
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Thank you so much Beverly
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Many thanks 🙂
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Happy to share your work, Paul!!
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Great poem, as always…not sure how much to interperet from it 🙂
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She has a very vivid imagination. 🙂
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🙂
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Ah! so both are just performing.
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Yes, that’s right. He performs in her memory, she performs forgetting she is in public.
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Clever
>
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Thank you 🙂
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