Eating Out
By rosa_johnson
- 426 reads
PUB LUNCH.
We sit at tables in the scented shade,
There, watch the sun through the horizon fade.
A vision on a bench near ours,
Wears in her hair a coronet of flowers.
Her lashes lowered and her lips full red,
I want to touch her, take her to my bed,
And love her long and love her tenderly,
Yet well I know the lady's not for me.
I want to tell her how my body yearns,
And how my heart leaps up each time she turns
To speak, or smile or sip the sparkling wine,
But though she smiles at me; she is not mine.
Her long dark hair into a chignon bound,
In comfort at her breast, and sleeping sound
A baby rests his head, and does not stir;
I wish that I had made that child with her.
Oh, stay my passion, stay my racing heart.
Her fascination's but a little part;
The lady with the soft seductive eyes
Is tempting me to live a thousand lies.
Beside me on the bench, my little boy.
My wife's hand holding his, that is my joy.
Forbidden loves delight, ferment and thrill,
But is a love that lasts, not better still?
Alluring lady of my fantasy,
Clandestine love could never be for me.
Those whom I love, love constantly and true;
Although, they're not as beautiful as you!
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