The tomatoes wait for their mistress
on the table of the dull kitchen.
I wait for my fate to act in distress
while she stood with a frying pan.
Her hairs kissed her cheeks
as she moved, hastily, angrily.
I kissed the air in front
and she grew redder than a tong:
she wasn't in mood of romance,
I hadn't read the day's Taurus!
"My mistake was?"
How dared I asked!
She blamed the remote
...
and the computer still on.
I couldn't utter a word
for all my tricks were gone!
Oh! How beautiful
she looks.
I surrender like a drunk king...
drunk in her red cheeks,
redder than the tomatoes
which wait for her
on the kitchen table,
much safer than me!
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