I have an old photograph
It was taken at
Wimbledon,
Long, long ago
It was of dear sweet
Yvonne
And she was smiling at
me
From an old,
discoloured print
Yvonne, cute and naive
She had such a sweet
face
I recalled the day
instantly
She had begged me to
take her
I liked tennis, though
not a huge fan
But I liked her more
so I agreed
Suddenly I could smell
her
And hear that
infectious little giggle
And feel her touch on
my skin
Her soft lips on mine
The memory of the day
was so vivid
And of the days of
unbridled passion that followed
When the wonders of
her soft young body
Were yielded to me
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