Townhouse Meets Cottage

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #458

Words:  order, whiskey, empty, lift, touch, frothy, dish, singe, breathe, cottage, eggs, smoke

Her hair was the color
of smoky scotch whiskey.
She entered my bar,
and I could scarcely
breathe. There was
that rustle of silk
as her dress touched
the bar stool. It was
a weekday afternoon.
We were nearly empty.
I asked for her order,
and her velvet voice
singed my body.
“Maker’s Mark neat,”
she said, lifting
her chin slightly. Some
-how I knew a dish like
her would never order
one of those egg-whipped
frothy drinks of pink.
We had some light
banter, and I was
tempted to ask her
out.  Then I thought, 
why would a townhouse
go out with a shabby

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to Townhouse Meets Cottage

  1. I love that! What a great idea for writing.


  2. oldegg says:

    You never know, perhaps she needs a change!


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