Ode To Erté

watch him fill a glass with sparkling glee

but madam turns her nose up at such things!

swaying slightly, all eyes on her politely

her head begins rising like curtains kiting
pivoting, sporting her elegant slippers

she glides away from monsieur

and his cloud of quippers

in the garden we find her alone, but not in distress

a doting crowd has migrated to gaze at her dress

and the fine lines floating down her velvet curves
that end curling as softly as a kitten can purr