Mature woman seeks grown-up man
Who remembers to hold doors & push in chairs
One who looks at me & sees True Love
His heart must be open, but not needy
His shirts free of stains
Tho wrinkled & that thrift-shop smell are okay
He must be ready to have me blanket him with love
Tuck myself around his edges
With comfort, with not a little heat of passion
If interested, please reply.
Think if a bright melody – a Carol!
Then stand by for all the love you’ve ever wanted!
I cried in my sleep for passion
My body woke & went seeking
Every pore alert
Oh, I found men whose antennae turned to my passing
Who were sweaty with need
But could not rise to any occasion.
I found some who drowned in my big brown eyes
But came up sputtering, shaking like wet dogs
Tucking tails to whimper away the prospect.
The men my age suspect wide-eyed innocence
No matter how sincere its aspect
How grounded, not in loveliness
But in that ravenous desire to offer another all I have become
I write in application
To the position you once took
On dreams coming true.
On hands that know their way around
On (excuse me here) a mouth made for kissing
I heard you were seeking
A heart made from Joy
A holy will to step into harness with wisdom
With that understanding that goes without words
I am bold to say I am she.
I am an invitation to love
Ever-ready, not mother, nor sister, but blessing
A match waiting to be made of heaven.
I am a story written by a child
Before I knew words, but only sound
Despite my years, there is that of me untouched
Calling life in, for I am greatly hungered
One day I will be set as a feast
For the man that is my wave rushing to shore
The one I shall never whisper back from
I am the hook & anchor for your love…
That last swallow of honeyed tea where all the sweet resides.
Great… loved the double entendre (if that’s what it was meant to be) of not “being able to rise to the occasion.” Love you sister mine!