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Such Games

Such games they'd play
and it all mattered

not a fig
the bedroom romps

the bed making
just so to survive

the latest fashion
in the art

of making love
and she saying

let's try this
and him saying

if you like
and the handcuffs

and the little
weedy whip

and the nakedness
and oh

she'd say
let's pretend that I'm

the naughty one
and you're

the master
and he kept

a straight face
as best he could

and not let her see
he saw through

the sexual games
and that time

she'd had him
tied to the bed

and they heard
her parents' car

in the drive
and how she fumbled

to untie the twine
and he wanting to die

and him naked
as the day he was born

and the key
in the lock downstairs

and her fingers fumbling
and he saying

covering with hairy hands
his manhood pride

where can I hide?
and she finally untying

took off the twine
and he leaping from bed

put on his clothes
and so did she

and she whispering warnings
and pulling on her dress

his tee shirt
hanging out

her hair in a mess
and her mother calling

are you up there Chloe?
and he thinking

of the weedy whip
and unmade bed

and love making mess
and Chloe shouting out

yes mother
yes yes yes.

poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
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