32 flavours

My face is pale, one could say vanilla
My neck like lavender, and fresh strawberry
Lower boasts of ripe muskmelons
My heart is dark: chocolate and cherry

Soft gelato, like mulled wine
I have no stomach for milquetoast
Coffee keeping straight my spine
Espresso or, in a pinch, French Roast

Roast chicken is a tasty dish
Occasionally broiled fish
In a pan with rosemary and thyme
Olive oil and a squeeze of lime

Some days I can be sour
Marinated in vinegar and lemon
Don’t be afraid-the mood will pass-and
Delight like sweet apples and cinnamon

Do you suppose a touch of rose
Would be tasty in a dish so sweet
A smattering of blueberry, memory of home
In the air, the scent of grilling meat

Yesterday I took the powder
Ran home and stewed some creamy chowder
I sat with salty tears in my eyes
The music was loud, I turned it louder

What flavour are you, on days like this
Your sweet embrace, your salty kiss
Endless french fries and midnight omelet
So wonderful, I will never forget

Mornings tasted like fresh mown grass
Evenings were slow and caramel
I imagine the winters were peppermint
Spring came stormy, with deep lament

Dipping our dreams in rich fondue
Shall we dance once more
smelling the smoky Gouda, and
Armani on you

Then have our coffee and cake
With icing
Red, white, and blue


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