As if ordering her lunch,
“Tuesday, eight would be grand”
address in lipstick
on the back of me hand,
had a fling with nonchalant
but where not to stare,
not back at those eyes, inviting
as she played with her hair

Not too tall, with the curves just right
for a meal for two, and then replied
“I’ll think of something….”
with the something, hanging,
with a laugh, a look, knowing
dessert could be mine,
if followed her course
said the right things a little, at the right time

It’s always the same, I’ve been told
talk’s for the hands, not the mouth, but;
so much in common, she was Cork too, well knew
how it felt, from a small town
so felt perhaps, true soulmate
and more to be gained
delve a little deeper, ask
maybe listen for a change,

As we sat on the floor, laughing,
having the craic, and her arm snaked round
I thought of a kiss, but bottled,
instead, calls a cab,
I know looking back, you’d say
it was the wrong thing to do,
but at the time, didn’t want me fumbling
messing, spoiling the mood

The following day, and it’s all over
literally all over, her mates, me mates,
strangers, the whole bar knows
she’s given me the shoulder
scurried out, a virgin?
like a scared little rabbit
I think was the gist
of how she described it

About a year it took, before
the ‘rabbit’ hops out again,
to that mysterious world
of girls and their games
and the next time it was offered
let’s just say,
a lot less uncertain
the right strokes, and how to play

So ‘as Larry, the following night
as I enters the bar, acting all coy,
me riding a stool, trying to get her eye, but
already moved on, found a new toy,
now, I’ve no complaints, it was fun
being used and abused, but know now
I’m just the starter, appetiser,
until the real meal shows.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

By cyncoed

Old & Welsh

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