For Marie-Adeline Paris
I had butterflies as I waited
Not nerves, but a chorus of them
Visit the spot where we often start our day.
They couldn't have known,
Your complexion was as spotted as their wings,
For they seemed shy of their colors,
Hesitant of my attention.
Your cooling lait entertained them,
As they crowded like doting visitors against your mug.
It was not the frothy steam that held their gaze,
But rather the floating cardamoms they found.
You arrived in your aromatic way,
Stirring the froth hurriedly disbanding their magic,
Spy-like they camouflaged into a backdrop,
You did not suspect and I couldn't discern,
As they watched our mouths with great concern.
You were still obsessing about my sister's generosity,
And the scene we made in Benetton,
Unfulfilled shoppers frustrated in finding the perfect gift
You peeled open each cardamom savoring the seeds,
As they migrated in angry unison,
Revolted by our greed.