LOVER’S MOON

 

The night was of crystal clarity

No clouds obscured the stars

A new moon graced the sky

And the lover’s moon was ours

 

A shooting star crossed the sky

And we both made a wish

Then I held you in embrace

And we shared our first kiss 

ANNIE’S SONG

 

You were so self-conscious

Yet you never saw the beauty in yourself

The beautiful brunette hair

That framed your lovely face

Which you thought lank and lifeless

Your fabulous legs that so often were hidden away

Which you thought were unsightly and fat

Your intoxicating laugh

That you heard as a cackle

The tiny scar on your cheek,

That went red when you drank too much

We could only see it if you pointed it out

You always thought yourself ordinary

Nothing could have been further from the truth

You were beauty personified

And my biggest regret

Is that I missed my chance

I dithered and dawdled

And I lost you to another

I JUST MET A GIRL CALLED MARIA

 

I was fourteen when I met her

It was the school holidays

And time could hang heavily

As you tried to fill the days

 

But that was before Maria

We met at the local lido

During that long hot summer

When she affected me so

 

She was a big busted girl

A full year older than me

And the stirrings in my trunks

Were due to her close proximity

 

Everywhere that was important

Maria was big, soft and round

An open smile and wondrous lips

And a voice of honey sweet sound

 

I lost my heart on that summer day

Her charms I could not resist

That summer of sexual awakening

Her lips were the first I kissed

 

What a great summer it was

With Maria by my side

Our first summer of love

My heart full of love and pride

 

The summer passed much faster

After I first saw her lovely face

We parted in September

Never again to share an embrace

BROADBAND CONNECTION

 

I knew her name

And her email address

And I knew she was a poet

But that was all I guess

From her writing I divined a little more

She was clearly a Christian

And seemed to be an optimist

But I learned little more than this

Her profile only told me her age

And that we were from the same country

However, I thought I should contact her

I don’t really know why

I don’t make a habit of it

It’s not in my nature to pry

And I’m not one to seek out correspondents

I have never foisted my self

I’ve never been a joiner of things

Or actively looked for acquaintance

However, I felt almost compelled

No, I actually felt compelled

There was something you see

In her writing I suppose

That struck a chord in me

A kindred spirit possibly

Maybe we saw through the same eyes

Or shared the same moral compass

Or both like apple pies

I don’t know what it was

A connection of some kind

On some obscure level

I should say quite clearly

There was no romantic motive

I wasn’t looking for a lover

That ship sailed long ago

Nor did I need a companion

So, what prompted it, I don’t know

That aside I then faced the problem

Of what I should say to her

I couldn’t say I felt compelled

Or I felt there was a connection

She would have thought me mad

But while I struggled to find the words

A message popped into my inbox

And it was from her, I opened it instantly

Read the first line and smiled

“I hope you don’t mind me contacting you

I’m not sure what prompted me to write”

Isn’t life strange?

QUEEN OF THE SPANISH MAIN

 

Like a buccaneer

Sailing the Spanish main

The vivacious creature

Swept into my life

And like a pirate

Went for my treasure trove

Pillaging my heart

And stealing it away

Leaving my soul in chains

And my coffers empty

THE PARAMOUR

 

I have always been magnanimous by nature

Generous of heart and noble of spirit

Kind, forgiving blah blah blah

In short, I have always been a door mat

 

I don’t get to be the significant other

I am destined to forever be the paramour

The elicit lover, skulking in the dark

Never to come out into the light

 

Never to be amative, never to show my feelings

Always effacing myself in public

Confined to simple flirtatious episodes in view

And elicit sexual dalliances behind closed doors

 

Hotel doors mainly, locked against the world

Sometimes another man’s bedroom door

With another man’s wife or fiancé

I am not proud of what I do, but I do it anyway

LETTERS IN THE LIBRARY

 

As I sit in the musty library

In a once great house

I read, not one of the leather-bound tomes

That fill the shelves from floor to ceiling

But a collection of letters

Neatly tied in ribbons

And they take my breath away

For each page is part of a remarkable story 

About a most extraordinary couple

And their exceptional love story

For this lovingly devoted couple

Never met

Yet their love was evident

In their personnel correspondence,

No in their Love letters

Let’s say it how it is

The flowery words of an affaire d’amour

Echoed in the calligraphy on every page

Each billet doux

More affectionate and romantic than the previous

They bill and coo on every page

Each lovingly constructed sentence

Heavily laced with innuendo

Subtle yet explicit at the same time

Flavoured with delicious nuances

Flirtatious and lustful

Romantic and affectionate

A love of such purity                    

Not for its pureness of thought

But for the absence of any hope of physicality

She was an invalid, bed ridden

He a subject of an enemy state

So, she couldn’t go to him

He couldn’t come to her

They could never meet, would never meet

So, they made love via correspondence

An affair lasting more than forty years

Only ending with his death

His dying wish that her letters be returned to her

So that they at least should lie together