Purr Gurl

I love the leopard prowl of your sleek high heels across the terrace deck as if you prowl it all night long for prey.
A delicate sip from a half-full glass and the haute couture arch of brow and lip
Does not merely amuse, but slay.
Caught in the dazzle of your cat eye glance, another man might next be up a tree, his head a-dangle between her jaws.
Another man, not the one she slinks beside and curls, twirls, purrs
Despite her claws and his flaws.
Meow, says the moon....