There are angels
Not of seraphim
Nor a cherubim,
An angel that be
Decidedly a she
Of secular whim,
Angelic to the eye
Will candidly imply,
She’s not immune to sin…
An angel just the same
Without need of wings,
In a curvaceous frame
Made of earthly things,
A siren yet so graceful
Gliding in the rhythm
Of a tantalizing state,
Where angels the like
Shan’t likely populate,
In a world of seraphim!
Poetry on a Canapé 
An angelic poem Rumi would appreciate. How lucky she is to be so appreciated.
Ah my dear Paulette, what honour you bestow on your humble friend, yours truly. To suggest that Rumi might appreciate my poem is a very large compliment indeed, for which I am most grateful, and encouraged.
As to how lucky she is, let me assure that it is I who is the lucky one, to be so fortunate as to have such constant inspiration living under the same roof.
Lest we forget I can but mention that my good fortune extends beyond this roof, in as much as one Paulette Mahurin has chosen to befriend, and accordingly generously offers me her most welcome support and constructive critique. Thank you for continuing to be there, chre ami. Jean-Jacques