Monday, February 22, 2010

Once was a woman

Once was a woman, wife of doctor,
who was known to be most proper.
She always wore the latest fashion,
and was the best at conversation.
Her words were kind with no aggression,
even when she felt depression.

She never gave the wrong impression,
not even at the heights of passion.
Did she feel it? No one knew,
this wasn't issue to review.
Unlike the charity donation,
it's not her type of conversation.

She didn’t think nor did she dare
to ask herself if she did care,
or what her partner thought of it,
not having seen her naked bit.
Respect she got, was often flattered,
but not from those who really mattered.

She kept on smiling when her partner,
for lack of passion, left for other.
She was respected, but alone
craving some touch.
She was no stone.

But will she learn to get it right
to touch, to feel, to follow heart?
Or will she age with great regret,
of putting life on losing bet?

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