WAITING FOR.

[dadio]

I sit and wait for Bradmore, Elsa says,
His coming is like the dawn, his words like
The song of birds. I sit until my limbs
Ache, my eyes grow dim, and the ticking clock

Tells me the hour of my meals and the
Taking of the pills. He said he would come,
Bring flowers and gifts and make love to me
As we have before. I feel his lips now,

The pressure on my own, his tongue and mine
Touching, the exploration of mouths, the
Sensation of fire in the limbs, of
Hunger in the loins. The walls surround me,

The wallpaper wearies my sight, the old
Pictures bore me with their every colour,
Theme and shade. I want Bradmore to embrace
Me, to kiss me, to make love to me in

My lonely bed. I want to feel him as
He enters and sense his cheek against mine,
His whispered words in my ears, his breath on
My neck. He will come, tell me of his love,

Bring me gifts, stand, and stare at my dark eyes
And well-dressed hair. I dream of him at night
When he’s not here, pretend he’s in my arms
And in my bed and sexing me for all

He’s worth inside my head. The day grows cold,
The light fades, the chair numbs my behind, he
Has not come, I feel deserted, feel the
Dark climb over me as if I was blind.

He will not come today, he will not come
Now, his words shall not speak, no gifts given,
No kisses planted, all this and a poor
Life. He cannot come now, I blame his wife.

[joel]

So I've got thoughts of the Song of Solomon running through my heads and verses from the parables about closed doors and marriage beds...and then I come (no pun intended) to the final words and I simply have to smile and enjoy it.

[dadio]

Thank you, Joel for reading & comments.