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Roseilee

Tags: poem
be mine
Hot tea by the sea...
Ste Foy.
Kisses of contraltos sweet lips.
Roseilee be mine,
she shines.
Erotic cachet.

Hotel de Arabesque.
Exquisite hotel she suggest.
Dining in the resturant defined.
Zest of exquisite cuisine,
Tureen. 

Fortunes ruling the call,
and shadows in the hall.
We pass as just fiends,
the night we just shared.
Caring.
Hot tea by the sea...
Ste Foy.
Kisses of contraltos sweet lips.
Roseilee be mine,
she smiles.
Erotic cachet. 
Her walking fingers,
french toast.
The shorten' steds,
sweet breads.
Tureen.

St Lawerence Freeway,
with beacons of torch.
Shining its operatic light on she,
my Diva.
Hot tea by the sea...
Ste Foy.

Kisses of contraltos sweet lips.
Roseilee be mine.
Erotic cachet.

Saint Lawarence of Jacques Cartier.
On the banks I layed myself stayed.
There on the bed I gave her massage.
By the scent of the corsage.
Tureen.
Hot tea by the sea...
Ste Foy.
Kisses of contraltoes sweet lips.
Roseilee be mine.
she smiles.

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