Madame Neverhurry cousin
of Gustav Flaubert’s
Mrs Bovary,awoke at past 12
Suffering from a malady
Known as melancholy,
Casts her glance on the
Day’s chore, bored puts
The blinds back on, deciding
To have some high tea,
Summons, mischievous elves
On fire wings impatient
Yells “to get lost and bring
Forth aromatic mint tea with
Hazel nuts three or four”
On first command the elves
Disappeared, conjuring
A mysterious tea in glasses
Of crystal while the Madame
Put powders and billows,
adorning her buffet with
One Exquisite Ostrich feather
competing with the slopes
of Alps, all while thinking of
day’s chores and bitchy gossips
to be done which caviar to
be served with what exotic wine
at customary evening suppers
while discussing a mysterious
malady possessing modern ladies
known something as depression
so much work to do all
in a day, madam fainted
at 1 while still in satin beds
Personal elves hurried worried
Bellowing some wind trying
to revive with peacock
fans, “oh poor madam,
suffering pangs of
melancholy once again”
( Dedicated to all my beautiful women who loves to get up past noon)