A Warming Entry

Sometimes he enters and I feel his loss
To look at bare wall-spaces, papered green;  
And ancient furniture: a desk that's been  
Well used: the practiced marks go right across  
The baize. the wood and, on the sill, there's moss  
And ivy, trespassing: the stone has seen  
Much better days; I bend, being still keen  
To be spanked freely - what's a little cost;  
I need not wait for wealth to take my turn  
Across his desk nor beg for clemency;  
The fire can stay unlit; my rear will burn  
With heat he generates: temerity  
Is encouraged by him; and so I turn  
Myself over that desk for his entry...