You said you had to go away,
Just a day or two
A business trip
Something you had to do
But I knew better
I knew that you were leaving
I found out
About the cheating and deceiving
I wait for the truth to come
But you just keep lying
You’re leaving me
And inside I’m dying
But you won’t see me cry
I just smile instead
I won’t let you see me
I will do that in my empty bed
You kiss me on the cheek
And look me in the eye
And with that Judas kiss
You turn and say goodbye
From my familiar seat
On the crowded bus,
I thought I saw you
today
In the passing throng,
My spirits lifted
My heart beat
quickened.
And like Dr Zhivago
In search of Lara
I beat against the
cold glass.
To attract attention
You turned toward me,
And it wasn’t you.
I was mistaken.
Through vision clouded
by tears
I had not seen you,
How could it be you?
For you are gone
John Coe was staying at the Shallowfield Lodge Hotel at the head of Teardrop Lake as he did every summer as the view of the lake from the Hotel was spectacular.
The lake
was shaped like a teardrop, hence its name, and surrounded by the ancient
woodland of the Dancingdean Forrest.
It wasn’t
a huge body of water, just over two miles long and almost a mile at its widest
point.
It was
beautiful and relatively unspoilt which was one of the reasons he chose it.
A lot of fishermen,
walkers and avid bird watchers gravitated to the Finchbottom Vale.
Teardrop
Lake and the surrounding woodland was privately owned and divided into twelve
parcels of land, each with one significant dwelling on it, although there were
a number of cottages dotted around the forest as well, some in use and some
not.
It was
both idyllic and peaceful, and there was little or no noise pollution and
although the lake was used there were no speed boats or jet skis, only rowing
boats, canoes, dinghies and skiffs.
For John it was the sailing that brought him
to the lake, and he had spent the day sailing and as he approached the jetty he
saw a figure standing there.
The first thing he noticed was the sun on
her red hair, turning it to a blazing fire as it tumbled down onto the white
flesh of her shoulders.
The next thing to catch his eye were the pastel shades of her meagre top which
struggled to contain the vibrancy of her wondrous breasts.
His eyes then moved on to her naked midriff which tantalized with a glint of
sun on an adornment in her navel.
The waistband of her skirt, falsely named as it actually sat more factually on
her hips, while the white cotton below encased her rolling buttocks and strong
thighs.
Gratifyingly, heaven sent a gust of summer breeze blowing off the lake lifting
her skirt and allowing glimpses of her white thighs and pastel underwear.
But as she walked along the jetty the sunlight behind her illuminated her form,
more than hinting at the delights contained within the cotton of her skirt and
his loins burned for her.
His thoughts about the girl with the flaming red hair had turned to a burning
desire which he would soon quench in the coolness of the forest shade because
the crimson haired beauty was his wife.
On life’s great journey
When sweet love
crosses your path
Seize it with great
urgency
Capture it and keep it
safe
Do not let it loose
from your grasp
Lest it slip through
your fingers, and be gone
Hold it tightly
Cherish it, nurture
it, and watch it grow
Until it wraps itself
about you
Like a great loving
cloak
Protecting you from
the world
Making you invincible
And you will know true
happiness
But when on your life
long expedition
And sweet love crosses
your path
Ignore it at your
peril
For who can say
When it might pass
your way again
Like the star-crossed lovers,
Romeo and Juliet,
They come from feuding
kin
And must hide their
love
They meet in secret
Beside the quiet lake
The only sounds,
Are of the faintest
breeze
Disturbing the lofty
tree tops
And ducks squabbling
on the lake
But despite the quiet
Fearful of discovery
They embrace hidden
from view
Beneath a weeping
willow tree
Whose leafy pendulous
branches
Trail down into the
still water
Stirred by the gentle
breeze
They dip in an out of
the water
Like the toes of a
reluctant bather.
They kiss there in the
quiet shade
And feel at once
renewed
No words are spoken
Their language is of
caress and kiss
Such tender converse
With limitless
vocabulary
And languid
pronunciation
Every syllable well
employed
And when the final
paragraph is reached
They end with perfect
.punctuation
Stirring from their
lovers languor
They tread separate
paths
To rejoin warring
tribes
Adopting adversarial
manner
No knowing looks to be
exchange
No casual brushing
past
When for that
exquisite moment
Hand touches hand
They must remain
entrenched
Until they can once
again
Embrace beneath the
weeping willow tree
From my pew
Where I stood and
prayed
My eyes were fixed
On a Christian maid
Is it inappropriate?
My lecherous behaviour
When in church
Worshipping the
saviour
I studied every inch
Right down to the
floor
Instead of hymn
numbers
Vital statistics I saw
A glimpse of lace
A bra strap showing
My eyes consumed her
Without her knowing
The tightness of her
jeans
Her shape within
I missed the sermon
Doubtless about sin
A sight to feast my
eyes
Which affected me so
That I had a quiver in
my voice
And a tingle down
below
Oh lord forgive me
For being such a
sinner
But you must admit
She really is a
stunner
The lovely young Eleanor is a pretty
young woman, a sweet dusky maiden with luscious skin the shade of molten
chocolate with an exotic scent that makes your head spin and your pulse race,
leaving you dizzy with delight.
Her sweet Angelic face, is heavenly
framed with rich soft curls,
as black as jet and shiny like a raven’s wing.
She looks at you with soulful eyes,
warm and inviting which are brown like burnt sugar and possess a hypnotic
quality.
Her exquisite nose is small and
button like and is the perfect punctuation for her demerara lips, which are
softly moist and wear a constant smile playing around them until she unleashes a
full-bodied beam and her whole face lights up, bright enough to dazzle a star
and making her dark eyes seductively beguiling.
Unintentionally coy and unambiguously
sweet, elegant young Eleanor moves gracefully like a cat, while remaining playful
as a kitten.
She is delicately limbed and is lithe and lissom with dainty hands and her feet
are small like those of a child.
She holds her head high with
assurance and confidence on her swan like neck which sits symmetrically on sculptured
shoulders atop a sleek slender frame, possessed of a tiny waist and narrow hips.
Her small round buttocks are almost like a boys, and her breasts sit in perfect
parity. Unimaginably she seems completely unaware of her allure and oblivious to
her beauty and the effect she has on men and women alike.
Sceptical of any appeal, incredible as it may seem she doesn’t see the woman
she has become or the woman she has been for many months.
She has come of age and is to all
intents and purposes at ease with herself and she is in no hurry to squander
her innocence, and her virginity will not be lost casually to someone
undeserving.
But perhaps the most wondrous thing
about the lovely young Eleanor is that she will not recognise herself from this
description of her and she will think it refers to a stranger, which all adds
to the wonderful whole that she is and making her all the more desirable for it.
