The Hundredth Hound

Ohhhh the piece de resistance!

The joyful cup overflows!

Strawberries spill down off of the cake

And onto the plate

With perfect artistic flair.

The last brushstroke of darkened black 

That draws the shadows near

And gives a photographic air to the painting,

And your love-words

Whispered in my ear,

Like a prophecy uttered

From the mouth of an innocent babe

Who cannot help but proclaim some truth

So immediately discovered.

You, like the bubbles in my bath,

Me, like me, slinking down,

I close my eyes

And measure into you

To the sounds of music to my ears

While you give me what you promised, 

The hundredth of a hundred hounds.

-jenn