She smells of bubblegum and sage
and walks the way that fine wines age.
A soft soled, hard wood, susurrus
of slinky surreptitious steps.
She sits in gypsy splendour
under lights like shredded silk,
Promethean eyes afire
a deity of desire.
Nic
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.
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