I've always been abashed;
embarrassment never crept near.
No, it pounced like the fresh woke bear
and I, the shredded salmon
felt every sharp-toothed bite.
To button a starched collar was hard,
harder than hefting a pickaxe.
The need to impress forced
upon me two hot baths
a cold rinse, and three stiff gins.
Drink entered my fingers
the bastards played a fumbling game.
Fastening an enamelled stud
beyond them. Another shot
to ease my tasselled nerves.
Molly would be here by midday
earlier than the arranged 1 o'clock.
She needed time to judge and fuss
before the afternoon promenade,
peacocking the park in full plumage...
Sunday mass was for married miners.
Woman washed their souls of coal dust
sins in the soapless bucket of Christ.
Forgiveness was all they had, forgiveness,
poverty, pride, and a husband's stiff white shirt
My inner self, black with thoughts of Molly;
stains of whale-boned corsets and small breasts
kept me from the congregation.
Fantasies of red spilling down ivory thighs.
Piercing her primness led me to perdition
She entranced through the back door
cuffed my ear and helped button my coat .
"Thinking dirty deeds again, hopefully of me."
My face filled up like a gentleman's claret glass.
Aren't they always I thought, looking at her cleavage.
A small edit, thanks to Leanne and Aish.
embarrassment never crept near.
No, it pounced like the fresh woke bear
and I, the shredded salmon
felt every sharp-toothed bite.
To button a starched collar was hard,
harder than hefting a pickaxe.
The need to impress forced
upon me two hot baths
a cold rinse, and three stiff gins.
Drink entered my fingers
the bastards played a fumbling game.
Fastening an enamelled stud
beyond them. Another shot
to ease my tasselled nerves.
Molly would be here by midday
earlier than the arranged 1 o'clock.
She needed time to judge and fuss
before the afternoon promenade,
peacocking the park in full plumage...
Sunday mass was for married miners.
Woman washed their souls of coal dust
sins in the soapless bucket of Christ.
Forgiveness was all they had, forgiveness,
poverty, pride, and a husband's stiff white shirt
My inner self, black with thoughts of Molly;
stains of whale-boned corsets and small breasts
kept me from the congregation.
Fantasies of red spilling down ivory thighs.
Piercing her primness led me to perdition
She entranced through the back door
cuffed my ear and helped button my coat .
"Thinking dirty deeds again, hopefully of me."
My face filled up like a gentleman's claret glass.
Aren't they always I thought, looking at her cleavage.
A small edit, thanks to Leanne and Aish.
Quote:Original:
Promenading; A Social Activity
I've always been abashed;
embarrassment never crept near.
No, it pounced like the fresh woke bear
and I, the shredded salmon
felt every sharp-toothed bite.
To button a starched collar was hard,
harder than hefting a pick haft.
The need to impress forced
upon me two hot baths
a cold rinse, and three stiff gins.
Drink entered my fingers
the bastards played a fumbling game.
Fastening an enamelled stud
beyond them. Another shot
to ease my tasselled nerves.
Molly would be here by midday
earlier than the arranged 1 o'clock.
She needed time too judge and fuss
before the afternoon promenade,
peacocking the park in full plumage...
Sunday mass was for married miners.
Woman washed their souls of coal dust
sins in the soapless bucket of Christ.
Forgiveness was all they had, forgiveness,
poverty, pride, and a husband's stiff white shirt
My inner self, black with thoughts of Molly;
stains of whale-boned corsets and small breasts
kept me from the congregation.
Fantasies of red spilling down ivory thighs.
Piercing her primness led me to perdition
She entranced through the back door
cuffed my ear and helped button my coat .
"Thinking dirty deeds again, hopefully of me."
My face filled up like a gentleman's claret glass.
Aren't they always I thought, looking at her cleavage.