© MM (Mal) Beveridge Winter Solstice 2015.
I had sent a reminiscence to a love met long ago
as I’d found myself alone with little scope
and I’d heard that she was likewise in a state she might forego
so I found this situation held some hope.
So I visited an evening I still recall so well
when I held her hand and walked her by the shore
as the moonlight on the water cast its shards upon the swell
and the perfume of the breezes promised more.
When we turned to kiss so sweetly with the full moon as our frame
with the beating of the surf as loud as hearts
and we knew without our speaking that we both must feel the same
and that love had penned this play and cast our parts.
And I asked if she had memories of when we two were one
and in hopes that she might feel that spark once more,
if she might be free to dally, then before the setting sun
send a sweetly worded message to my door.
Smiles and trepidations were the close companions of my wait
as I floated by the banks of loves sweet pool,
but her answer came directly in these words that sealed my fate,
“I’LL BE WAITING ON OUR BED YOU BLOODY FOOL”
