SWEET YVONNE

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