Sunday, August 6, 2017

This poem was recently revised and due to formatting problems has been re-posted out of chronological order.

With Her Eyes Closed
May 23 2009

A woman of a certain age
is grateful to feel wanted,
long after she thought
her time had passed.
And to be the object of desire
thrills her.
The age, of course, is immaterial
and a gentleman never asks.

They make love
with her socks on,
thick sturdy wool ones
knee-high hose.
Unselfconscious, unlike the young.
She kisses with her eyes closed,
transported back to old affairs
abandoned lovers
absent men,
and the only one
she wishes never left.

But she is comforted by this embrace,
his body as warm, familiar
as the garden she loves to tend.
Which she could navigate blind-folded
- up the garden path, along the rows,
her hands finding him
her fingers entwined with his.

Insatiable as spring
immersed in warm moist earth.
When she kneels on freshly turned soil
breathing in
its pungent scent.

No comments: