My hastily but lovingly constructed tribute to MrWordsworth and his M'lady

In days of old, before freezies were cold,
And Slushies were not yet invented,
Some bright spark, showed Lisa to Mark,
And relations were soon cemented.

Sexhaustion

lark flys
bleary eyes
morning sun
hard rise

short sighs
part thighs
having fun!
sexercise


spread thickly
crunchy pickly
midday sun
cheese and prickly

touch tickly
sweet, sticky
having fun
lunchtime quickie


high teas
buns squeeze
evening sun
trembling knees

birds ‘n’ bees
bosom heaves
having fun...
bread and sleaze


conversation
consummation
setting sun
intoxication

large portion
abandon caution
having fun?
sexhaustion

Shoe Shine

An unremarkable grey man kneels before a wooden chair. The in-congruence hadn’t struck me until now. The chair, edges warm and smoothed from years of use. His clothes, clean but worn, a workers clothes. A blackened, stiff leather pinafore covers his chest and thighs. It ties around his still slender waist, and moves in opposition to his strong shoulders as they flex and roll with every movement. He kneels before a suited businessman, the dull, polish soaked pinafore grazes the highly polished municipal granite floor. The backdrop is a sheer, darkly tinted glass scraper. It dominates the scene from every angle, until your eyes return to the unremarkable grey man.

Don't Speak

Soothe me

When my heart out shouts my head

Feel me

Let my limbs entrap yours

Don’t speak

Hold me

As I curve my spine into your torso

Caress me

Where your touch sears my core

Don’t speak

Trust me

As I take you into myself

Soar with me

As your being becomes mine

Breathe my name