Looking back over my worn shoulders toward a future infatuated with their styles,
I sip on Dragon Pearl Jasmine like I belong but my shoes tell the story of downtrodden miles.
I gaze in with concentration but blinded by a sapphire and carnelian brooch pinned to your twill coat,
I study the subtle movement of your wrist draped in Breguet Depuis but you are above any desire to gloat.
Not to be outdone, your neck caressed by Van Cleef & Arpels with the scent of Clive Christian No 1,
Salvatore Ferragamo clings to your body as your feet rest in Pierre Hardy Gala Pumps for fun.
I am shackled by this utopia, but brought back by the engine of the Maserati and your Nubian Hair,
My lunch break is over, my infatuation continues, back to serving success with an enviable stare.