Ripe for the picking

Desiring your touch,
will you make it worth the wait?
The fruit’s ripe. Pluck it.

Red Suits Me

I used to wear black,
mourning lost virginity.
Can’t have it back now.

My blue dress is creased,
stained and torn.
I loved it more than him,
tho’ it clashed with my hair.

My happiest day –
I wore white at my wedding;
stiff now, discarded

like the man.
Gone, forgotten,
he found someone else
before he left.

Suitors come and go,
replaced like my worn high heels;
never make the grade.

Never as good
as the one I missed,
almost had,
ran out of time.

Stopped painting my nails.
I’ll window shop from now on;
he’s there within reach

Separated by the glass.
I watch, wait, want,
live for the day
I can wear red again.

As long as it takes

My heart belongs to one only.
I stand at the window
watching from the crisp air
of the frosty sunrise.
He is mine – on loan,
until he’s ready.

Spring will turn summer
and he’ll come out to play,
but it’s not a game,
never was.
This time it’s serious.

Sitting in the restaurant
at our table
he will come eventually –
he’s been delayed.
It was unavoidable.

No blind date, this –
no Jimmy Stewart;
I don’t need that rose.
I’ve waited forever.
I will wait more,
as long as it takes.