Keith O.J. Hunt Poet Free verse

The Morning After

I loved the way she fixed my shirt,

   and smoothed out the creases,

At night tore the thing from me....

   but morning's shirt wasn't for love,
 
   when I had to walk among men first,

   and grow weary of their violence ----


She loved the way I counted the hours

   and dreamed of midnight romance;

   and Kashmir-blown curtains 

   full moon streaming upon our stage

   of silver sheets and red candles,

   a terrace to stroll ----

   not too long,

   before taking her past the hour, again....

   (til she was full of me beyond measure....)


Exhausted, shirtless,

   til come morn she fixed my shirt,

   and smoothed out the creases...

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Lucilla Carrillo March 15, 2014 at 6:35 PM Keith; this is one good poem you have written. Thanks for sharing and for reading my poem. Many blessings... Lucilla Keith O.J. Hunt March 15, 2014 at 10:00 PM Thanx people, she was a fine woman....

Robert Pettit March 15, 2014 at 3:56 PM Nice description of a cycle. Good write.

Paul Callus March 15, 2014 at 3:32 PM Beautifully executed poem...both sides of the coin (shirt) :) // paul

Poet Destroyer A March 15, 2014 at 3:25 PM Hello, Keith, lovely morning when one never stops giving love. The imagery was romantic. and wow about you, nice how the moon gave you the stage. xox .. Linda