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There will be the placing
on of hands. She knows
that, he has done that
before. There will be the

unbuttoning of her blouse,
the slow undoing, one
button eased through
the hole. Then he will

pause, breath in deeply,
then proceed with the
removal of her blouse,
each arm in turn taken

out, then he will place
the blouse on the chair.
Here she will smile, hide
her unease. Then he will

unclip the bra from behind,
she will feel fingers moving.
Her ******* will fall free
once he has taken away

the bra. He will then lay it
somewhere out of her sight.
Next he will take an intake
of breath; she will sense it

on her back, a warm breeze.
Then he will unzip her skirt,
the zip going down over her
***, his fingers will linger here,

she will feel them, she will
then sigh. Next he will let
the skirt fall to the floor,
trapping her legs in the cloth.

She will step out, one foot
at a time. He will lift her skirt
and put over the back of the
chair and let it hang there.

After a short pause, he will
place his fingers inside her
silk underwear and take down
slow, as if unwrapping some gift.

Next she will step out and pick
them up and place on the chair.
Just her ankle stocking will be
left remaining. She will stand

as he walks around her, his
eyes moving over her, grey
slugs, damp and smooth. Then
he will go. Nothing quite as it

may seem. Each night he will
come, each night the same dream.
Been there enough times
to remember it.

That couple ran it.
Her with the bust

and him
with the moustache.

Had some good times there,
you came with us once

didn’t you?
Some years ago now.

Nice place,
Ramsgate.

We took the girls
when they were young.

Freda, Elsie, Sally
and young Enid here.

They thought I
was a poor soul

surrounded by females.
Nag, nag,

and nag it was.
Back in those days,

it was a different couple
had it first.

That Mr and Mrs Gentry.
Him with the one eye

and her with the figure
of a hippo.  

Good old days.
Before the last war that was.
I'm not a brave woman

I'm a coward at heart

In love with the darkness of the longest night

In love with the silence of the words left unspoken

In love with the coldness of the touches left undone

In love with the mornings of the days to come

In love with the memories of the time long went by



I'm not a brave woman

I'm a coward at heart

for the shortest word makes my tongue turn to stone

for the shortest look makes my eyes turn to water

— The End —