Rain On The Window

My girl stands to attention

But remains hidden from public view

Who is she?

Red lips!

She’s finally poised

Like a gazelle in the morning dew

Her face stays hidden

I watch her feet

As she glides in pirouettes, stretching and searching

Up close, she’s a woman

With curves and eyes like precious lockets

Her every way is scenic like fresh wind on a cloudless day

She wore her femininity like a broach

Showing me all I was missing

All I ever needed

The curves of her breasts tormented me

As the wind tried to expose her all I could think was

‘she was once mine’

When I touch her, she holds her breath

Hoping I’ll stop

She looks through me

Never at me

We made love in silence

With the November rain beating on the window

I think she forgets that I know her body

Every road, every alley, every short cut

Making love with her was like playing chess

I pre-empted her every move

I had her pinned down into submission

Her tights ripped like soft tissue

And all at once she was living in the moment

Those soft hands on my chest

The murmur of her sweet moans

We went berserk

My mind flashed forth in abundance

As you slide

From one stage

From one bed

To another

My memory is blurred,

A collage of white

Of Rimbaud poems

Of empty shadows and nightmares