Beneath the Harvest Moon

The harvest moon looks from afar,
On two who tarry beneath it.
Snuggled close and out of eyesight,
Each thinking what they may commit.

With the glow of the moon they stare,
Steadily 'tween each others eyes.
He reaches for her hand to hold,
She withdraws it shyly and sighs.

The night smelled of her scented scent,
Plus the moon captivated him.
He tries sweet-talking the sweetie,
She replied so proper and prim.

She asked what were his deepest thoughts,
As he reclaimed her hand once more.
She left it there he'd won this round,
Maybe she wasn't such a bore.

No words were spoken between them,
His heart beating she surely heard.
When their knees touched she leaned into,
So kissing her was not absurd.

I'm married, she said, so you know,
A good man, handy round the house.
He leaned in, kissed her supple neck,
Disregarding words of her spouse.

Even after he'd stole a kiss,
She casually refused him more.
Still she sat and allowed the man,
Touch her here and there, but was bored.

When he undressed her, laid her down,
These words uttered, protested not,
She said, Do it if you need to,
And stared off into space a lot.

©September 29, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton