AT THE WINDOW

Inspired by KateA’s avatar of a picture postcard nude woman – subject of her poem, “Isadora…” - back to camera, looking as if she is about to draw apart the curtains of a window in a darkened bedroom.    
   
"Shall I let in the light of day,    
See what the world offers today?"    
Gazing upon her back from bed    
That she had just stepped from, naked,    
He answered, "Don't know about you,    
I certainly admire your view!"    
   
The stirring thought had crossed his mind:    
She was so stunning, from behind.    
So like a goddess statue: proud,    
Confident, in curves well-endowed.    
Soon he was not content to stare;    
He felt that he must join her there.    
   
Barely getting his cheeky joke,    
She drew the curtains for her bloke,    
Whom she did not hear leave the hay    
To head decisively her way,    
Then coil his arms around her waist,    
Take of her skin his lover’s taste.    
   
It set her bare body astir;    
He knew it did such things to her.    
She asked, “Shall we go back to bed?”    
“No, let us try it here instead!”    
Soon, passer-by, looked up, might see    
Her in the throes of ecstasy…  
 
Afire for 'Biblical' knowledge,
She pressed hands on the window ledge.
Drawing her upright legs apart,
She urged her man to make his start.
He lifted her legs by the thighs
And brought her core towards his size.   
   
Her breath clouded the window pane    
As he made love to her again,    
Taking her, this time, “doggy-style”,    
Leaving her in a loved-up smile,    
Their satisfaction made complete    
While daytime traffic filled the street.    
   
Washed, they concluded their last night    
A deux in the City of Light.    
To “Au revoir, M’sieur, M’dame.”    
From the hotel they caught the tram    
To their platform at Gare du Nord,    
Whence they made their journey homeward.