Does he own a cashmere coat?

Is it softly camel?

Did he step around the stair

Alone, without his family,

and did he say he’d planned a date

for dinner? Most assuredly.

Now, did she touch that cashmere coat

and, feel her palm upon it

or, have in bed

a tactile dream

then, write a silly sonnet?

.

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

3/4/15  all rights to remote viewing. Yikes.

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