The hug reserved for reticence
When time and mute desire collide.
She thinks perhaps of tenderness
And I, a thought I don’t confide.
Our schedules call for business dates—
Careers we made before we met.
In prior times, all twos were one
And nothing broke the dinner set.
I want to curse bisected lives
And time constraints on my desire.
But lips get brushed before I speak
And shoulders brace as she pulls higher.
I feel her tummy seeking mine
And help with arms around her waist.
The gap is closed with satin skin
While lips rejoin in leisured haste.
Closed eyes can see the minutes gone:
A blotting towel on naked curves
A languid sweep through central chores
A smile that knows her man observes.
Now, bra and panties bide her gown
As hands lay claim to skin still bare.
I trace the outline tempting me—
The curves inviting carnal dare.
I treasure still the fit of her—
That shape defining womanhood.
Who knows if curves evolved from this
As eons passed and love withstood?
Tonight the moments slip away
Without the gasp of timeless drives.
I won’t unhook her sultry bra
But moan instead unfastened lives.
Three fireplaces and three woodpiles—
Poised for a blazing fight.
A broom and shovel await the match
Though one more day, no ash in sight.
That masonry’s strong and pure
Preserved as clean as paint.
And what’s to fear from firewood
Yet cautious owners shun the taint.
An antiseptic home for them—
The envy of a sales brochure.
Designed and kept for resale price
With soot the bane of bricks’ allure.
The hall could show two treasured hearths
But Baby Grand obscured those views.
His brashness brought him basement space
(A fitting site for mice revues).
Let none dare call it sacrifice—
Inconvenience cum welcome mat.
For it will lure their purchaser
To rustic charm from city flat.
Now on the market two long years
With price as firm as hardened clay.
The wood won’t visit fireplace
The match awaits another day.
Bruised & Battlewise
Rhymed and metered poetry with a mixed-genre introduction.
Structured poetry—mostly rhymed and metered.