She
Kept
Her heels on for me,
Then left
Them behind.
Now I find
That those expensive, girlie stilettos
Stick in my mind.
I wonder what happened to you,
The young woman from private school
Who broke the rule
And left
Her heels behind,
Which I kept
For a time,
And now remember in rhyme.
A middle-aged gentleman visiting Stirling
Is always his moustache twirling
At all the beautiful young women,
Whilst his mind is on sinning.
And it’s very nice in Stirling!
2 young women passed by
Me, on a darkening December Day.
I
Got a hint of perfume.
The afternoon
Remained grey,
And I
Thought, in a desultory way
of past play.
And, on reaching home
I Considered the internet
Of regret,
And my ancient mobile phone.
Its a brief stroll
Through the churchyard for me
And my soul.
And although there be
No clock in the church tower,
To chime
The hour
For me,
Time
Must stop
And there will be
No more need of clock
For thee
Or me.
They say
That angels fall
From the sky.
But I
Know that angels call
On lonely men.
Where, undoubtedly they fall,
But not from the sky.
When a girl dressed as a goat
Said, “Sir, have you been to vote?”,
I said, “yes of course
And, were you a horse
You would not have eaten my coat!”.
When a young lady in the nude
Said, “sir, I think you’re a prude!”,
I said, “my dear Rose
You look great without clothes,
But the supermarket staff think you rude!”.
A young lady named Gwen
Threw at me her pen.
And when I said, “don’t do that!”,
She threw at me her hat.
It happened at half-past 10!
I saw a light
In the church window
Tonight.
It did glow
Bright,
Then, was lost in night
From different decades,
Games we played
Of maids
And squires,
And desires
(On my part).
There was the inevitable wine,
To pass the time,
And her heart
Could never be mine.
