deepundergroundpoetry.com
These Words
I was looking,
In a shop window.
Reading the plaques,
Hanging there.
Some were new.
Most,
I’d heard or read,
Before.
Not paying attention,
I hadn’t noticed,
Someone standing,
Beside me.
Until a voice ask,
“What’s your favorite?”
I mentioned a couple,
I liked.
But ended by saying,
I like that one,
Best.
These lines.
If not now, when?
If not you, who?
If not here, where?
I glanced at her.
She was quiet,
For a moment.
Brow,
Furrowed.
Pressing her lips together,
Tightly.
Tongue peeked out,
Wet them.
Looked directly into,
My eyes.
Spoke these words.
Within the hour.
With you.
In my bed.
In a shop window.
Reading the plaques,
Hanging there.
Some were new.
Most,
I’d heard or read,
Before.
Not paying attention,
I hadn’t noticed,
Someone standing,
Beside me.
Until a voice ask,
“What’s your favorite?”
I mentioned a couple,
I liked.
But ended by saying,
I like that one,
Best.
These lines.
If not now, when?
If not you, who?
If not here, where?
I glanced at her.
She was quiet,
For a moment.
Brow,
Furrowed.
Pressing her lips together,
Tightly.
Tongue peeked out,
Wet them.
Looked directly into,
My eyes.
Spoke these words.
Within the hour.
With you.
In my bed.
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