You preferred the Mahler
rather than the Delius;
the record played on
your Hi-Fi as we sat
on your blue sofa.
You'd brought us two
glasses of whiskey
and we sat and listened.
There was a print on the wall:
some country scene,
lovers at the corner, kissing.
The curtains were drawn closed
to shut out the street lights
and moon.
Not sure
I could be roused
by Delius, you said,
Mahler it is
who rouses me.
We sipped and sat
next to each other.
Last time I was there,
after Mahler's 5th
we went into your bedroom
and undressed
and made love.
After we lay there hot
and drenched with sweat,
and you said your husband
could never bring you
to such heights.
I remember
our first time,
a year or so before,
and I had come
to your apartment,
and after talk
and drinks,
you seduced me.
You were much
older than I,
but it unwound me
and brought life back
into your bed.
Sometimes I brought
wine or sherry;
often we drank
a whole bottle
between us.
Years later,
a friend of ours
stopped me and said
you had died:
your heart had stopped
and you were found
alone on your bed.
I hadn't seen you
in years;
we had drifted apart.
I remember
your warm smile
and over-beating heart.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 6:02 AM UTC
You preferred the Mahler
rather than the Delius;
the record played on
your Hi-Fi as we sat
on your blue sofa.
You'd brought us two
glasses of whiskey
and we sat and listened.
There was a print on the wall:
some country scene,
lovers at the corner, kissing.
The curtains were drawn closed
to shut out the street lights
and moon.
Not sure
I could be roused
by Delius, you said,
Mahler it is
who rouses me.
We sipped and sat
next to each other.
Last time I was there,
after Mahler's 5th
we went into your bedroom
and undressed
and made love.
After we lay there hot
and drenched with sweat,
and you said your husband
could never bring you
to such heights.
I remember
our first time,
a year or so before,
and I had come
to your apartment,
and after talk
and drinks,
you seduced me.
You were much
older than I,
but it unwound me
and brought life back
into your bed.
Sometimes I brought
wine or sherry;
often we drank
a whole bottle
between us.
Years later,
a friend of ours
stopped me and said
you had died:
your heart had stopped
and you were found
alone on your bed.
I hadn't seen you
in years;
we had drifted apart.
I remember
your warm smile
and over-beating heart.
Request permission to use this poem