© The Poetry Organisation



Part one: Beyond the Fringe

The night before she rang and talked about the moon
She had another lover so couldn't come too soon
The fire was laid The floor was swept
The house looked almost new
At ten to twelve my heart leapt up
when she sailed into view
She looked a million dollars
but money she had none
Her hair had blonded colours
Her figure promised fun
She dressed in latest fashion
her new jeans highly prized
The fringes looked quite dashing
her long legs emphasised
Ending at her bum which she parked on a heater
Through snow and ice she'd come
For beauty none could beat her
Would she like wine or something else?
Let's stay here for the sun
But blazing fire her soft heart melts
and whiskey now is come
It's ten days since I saw her
I missed her at the ball
And praise her for her story
as gossip she'll recall
That glamorous party Christmas Eve
Her hostess so smart frocked
Rich boyfriend flattered to deceive
On Boxing Day she's dropped
And as for her own millionaire
he's off for ten days ski
By private jet he'll take the air
but does that worry me?
Today's our special meeting
It's not just for romance
More that lust she needing
to sort out her finance
The winds of chance have caught her
I am her only port
She's mother wife and daughter
now to my loan some thought
I catch her dreams I her adore
For me she gleams Could I ask more?
He presence is my meat and drink
providing all my victuals
With wine to hand we once more sink
into the usual rituals
Will you do my feet ? she asks
Willing slave am I
Massage is a married task
which couples oft deny
And so I do her feet her legs
her neck and shoulders bare
Is this a substitute for sex?
And does she really care?
Six hours later she must go
we both know its bizarre
To love someone you really know
but never get that far