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deepundergroundpoetry.com
After Noon
When light is more than gentle after noon,
Sir may as well be harsher and inflict
A rougher sort of punishment that soon
Ensures that he is hard and she is slicked,
Quite ready for the aftermath throughout
An evening, where the sun, as it descends,
Will let the shadows gather and a bout
Of fucking will last long, as it extends
Into the darkest night that may prevail
Until sir's done and she's limp on the floor;
And there's no moonlight to reflect the pale,
Faint she's fallen into. She's sir's whore,
Who he might waken by the afternoon,
Aware that gentle light is coming soon.
Sir may as well be harsher and inflict
A rougher sort of punishment that soon
Ensures that he is hard and she is slicked,
Quite ready for the aftermath throughout
An evening, where the sun, as it descends,
Will let the shadows gather and a bout
Of fucking will last long, as it extends
Into the darkest night that may prevail
Until sir's done and she's limp on the floor;
And there's no moonlight to reflect the pale,
Faint she's fallen into. She's sir's whore,
Who he might waken by the afternoon,
Aware that gentle light is coming soon.
Published 13th Nov 2014
| Edited 2nd Sep 2017
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