Saturday, April 2, 2011

This Woman Whom Age Will Never Wither

Exits would be easier if the curtains were left unclosed.
A swale of land on the other side, rain falling in the wind.
I am the man running to catch a train leaving the station.
Knowing I bear a gift, she wants me to put it in her hands.
My brothers say only a fool keeps hoping she will love you.
Her sisters have taught her well: Be careful, he is too sincere.

He carries his hat in his hands, his lips would likely bruise yours.
He watches your eyes, he says he loves you, and that’s all he says.
He talks when you trigger his tongue, but would rather love you.
He knows he has no place, he wants to find love between your thighs.
There’s this story you tell, how he won’t easily forget you.
He may never see Egypt, eyes full of all of your woman.

You went down to the river with her, where she could dance with you.
She raises one arm, she glows; no need to wait to see her smile.

(2 April 2011)

copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander

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