Tinted Rouge

[sobehectate]

The Major Domo took his bath this evening,
Praising servants upon his call,

Flutters of the fingers gestured will and rhyme,
Though communication dispersed mid-air,

We could've sought to find the need,
That played upon his pudgy grasp,

Yet, we could no longer bask in that light,
For the bubbles, we forbade his breath

Funny, I find, the glazed eye stare,
Laughing upon the rim,

And for the instant that he sighed,

A mirror found it's way in