Western Walkabout: The Lovers
Richard Harris brings us a deliciously naughty poem.
In the grasses
By the river
He whispered secrets
To his lover
His breath a feather
In her ear
Held words only she
Could hear
Thoughts of love
that made him shiver
in the grasses
by the river
with the sheer
delight of her
the joy of being
with her
by the river.
Marry me, he said.
She smiled a rose at him.
“Don’t be silly,
We’re seventy.
We’ll go to my place
And into the cot
You can love me now.”
And, just a little flighty,
“Is it ok if I wear my nightie?”
Lights out.
