PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Whatever else
her Polish accent
didn’t do
it didn't stop

her quest for sex
and Benedict
nigh on gave in
one or twice

(who was counting?)
time on his hands
(a rare event)
or caught unaware

and thinking
do I dare?
and he had to admit
even against

his better will
she was
a lovely dame
and such

well?
Sophia said
you want to?
he looked passed her

at the door closed
the bed fresh made
as if she knew
bins all emptied

of their dust
and muck
you want me?
you want to fuck?

he looked
at her blue uniform
the greeny top
the tight pressing bra

the eyes ice cool
I don't know
he said
what if some one calls?

or the old guy
comes back
to his room
for some reason

or other?
Sophia stood
always the excuses
always the worry

of others coming
or going
she said
come on

she said
sitting on
the fresh made bed
have me now

make up
your mind
he gazed out
the window

the snow was settled
trees hung
white with brown
not just now

he said
as she spread
herself down
upon the bed

one leg raised
a glimpse of thigh
caught as in a mirror
of his turning eye.