The Bride Wore Black

At a party you engage the fiancé, on the balcony you let him have his say, as the breeze catches your scarf, he tries to catch on your behalf, and then you leave, after you've helped him on his way. You invite, a gentleman, to a recital, at the end you make a plan to go where he dwells, enjoy a glass or two of drink, then clean receptacles in sink, as you leave it looks as if he's lost his vitals. Helping out when mum's away, it just seems right, businessmen don't find in kitchens, much delight, though that's not the only place, there's a less visited space, that you make cosier, sealed up, and quite air tight. You like to model for an artist as his muse, you overwhelm him with the picture you infuse, it's like a bolt from Cupid's arrow, has just settled in his marrow, as the lights go out, you may have blown his fuse. Serving lunch can be rewarding in its ways, helping out the less well-off with lengthy stays, and you'll always have a stab, to help your own mental rehab, to end the misery that haunts all of your days.

Jeanne Moreau is always outstanding!