The Tryst

WE WRITE POEMS


THE TRYST

I suppose Todd's 'a good provider' but that's as far as it goes.

Look at him lying snoring! The picture of sweet repose!

I wait until he's fast asleep....he goes out like a light...

And then I keep an eye on the clock; the timing must be right.

Ah! Twelve forty-five exactly! Time for a lovers' tryst!

Now is the time, precisely, for the ceiling to be kissed!

I know that Rupert's on the floor of the bedroom up above.

And it's Rupert, yes, it's Rupert, that I so dearly love!

His dull old wife if snoozing, no doubt she's snoring too.

Rupert says she's the sex-appeal of an old and worn-out shoe.

We meet each day in the office; he sometimes squeezes my knee.

But we know that our glorious romance can never really be.

I couldn't afford this apartment, if Todd and I ever parted.

Is it any wonder that I feel so down-hearted?

And Rupert can't leave Marianne; she's got a heart condition;

His hands are tied and I understand his delicate position.

So this is our moment of romance, me perching on the bed

And Rupert spread out on the floor of the bedroom overhead!
With only floor-boards between us it's truly titillating!
You can't imagine the thrill I get from this nightly levitating!

It isn't much of a romance; not like the ones on TV,

But ours is an 'Unrequited Love' and that's how it's got to be.

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IN A MINORITY

I have the reputation of being rather strange

But, even so, I tell you now, I'm not about to change.

I don't like social kissing! I think it's insincere;

I really feel uncomfortable when pursed-up lips appear.

I know the French are into it and I think they're to blame

For the widespread kissing habit which I just think is lame.

Brits saw it at the cinema and thought it continental;

And now they're aping Parisian chic, all pseudo-sentimental.

It's even reached Australia, the home of the rugged male!

It's become so unoriginal that it's getting really stale.

The left-then-right is automatic; not a scrap of emotion;

Sometimes people kiss the air! A very peculiar notion!

My friends all know I'm 'agin it' and leave me well alone.

This gives me the reputation for having a heart of stone.

I think a gaze into someone's eyes and a firm grip of someone's hand

Sends an affectionate message that all can understand.

I only know when I'm approached something inside me squirms,

And that's before I've given a thought to the breeding of fresh germs!

 I took a poll on the subject earlier on today,

And I then looked-up to ascertain what most responses say.

It turns out the habit is disliked by 15% of folk!

So I'm not as odd as people say!

Stop treating me as a joke!

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