Love Spasm The Seventh

Alright, then. She was forty-six
And I was twenty-three;
And I would fantasize about her
With some frequency

She worked just down the hall, divorced,
With boys about my age;
And we were friends, we laughed, we talked
And one day reached the stage

Where she thought she would fix me up.
So I would choose from three
Young friends of hers; we’d all go out
And see what we would see.

After that evening, at her place
She asked me who among –
But the next words I never heard
Instead I felt her tongue

Inside my mouth, her lips on mine
And it was everything
I had imagined it would be.
And so began our fling.

We weren’t “together” all that long
She broke it off one day;
Saying it was not fair to me
And had to be this way

But that’s another story.
Life seems strange, then, in review:
For fantasies aren’t always idle
Sometimes
They come true
.
.
.

(this prompt)

Tagged: Tags Autobiography Love Spasm Poetry