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A strange affair

She was not beautiful
In a classical sense
More round than straight
Her pale skin’s
Luminous alabaster
Was strangely different
Almost perfect
Except for freckles
On her aquiline nose.
None of this mattered
Because her laugh
Was contagious,
Like a babies laugh
You could say I heard
Her long before
Our eyes met
In the garden
Where my dog and her dog
Lifted a leg by a Turkish Oak
To sniff and pee.
We laughed as leads
Crossed as a Shih Tzu bitch
And a white Poodle dog
Tried in vain to make
A new breed.
It led from there
And no one wanted
Or meant it to be
But when the flies
Stopped annoying us
And the color of the paths
We walked changed
To the crusty crisp golden browns
To Black and red berried hedges
Our talks shifted from the hellos
To the books we read
And poems we liked.
We drifted quietly
Like a boat through mist
Into friendship.

I gave her a tea stained copy
of “Love In A Time of Cholera.”
She gave me “The Fox” by
D.H. Lawrence.
But most of all we stopped
To stare
At a tree reflected
In a pothole
Or thick moss carpeting
In the wood of the Silver Birch
Or frogged spawned jelly
It’s eyes watching
us in a black pool.
We never held hands
or stared dreamy eyed
Into each other
We never kissed
Or made love
But we always missed
Each other ‘till we’d meet again.
At night when I couldn’t sleep
Her freckles were
The stars I counted
And this was how it was
Until another summer passed.

I never noticed
she didn’t Wear lipstick
Until one day she put it on
And asked me
To her house for diner.
We talked often about food
And she knew
It made my mouth water
And so I said yes.
The food spoke many stories
Journeys taken
But most of all it came back to home
Where fresh baked bread wafted
Meats cooked slow with love
Fell to the fork in
Sauces of rich Burgundy
Pastry bronzed with butter
Apples tart with clove
And yellow thick cream.

But this is not important
For in her house
Each and every Thursday
A ceremony of love started.
In silence
She took off my tie
Unbuttoned my shirt.
She put my fingers on her
First button
We worked on from there.
‘til she took me by the hand naked
Leading me to the terrazzo shower.
As if rehersed we took the
The soaps and creams
And lathered bubbly suds
On all our shapes.
Still we never kissed
Or stared or made love
Even though my manliness
Stood to her seductions
And the water on her face
Hid a tear or two.
When she put puffs of talc
On my toweled skin
I was a child again
And I laughed through
White puff clouds
That smelled of damask roses.
Laughed at her even whiter skin
And then I’d dress to leave.
And we never kissed
Or stared
Or made love
And whatever sin
That was committed
Was venial.

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This is life somewhere between the heady mix of loneliness, love, commitment, marriage, vows, real love, catholic guilt and sin and the compromises one makes unselfishly to cut a deal with God to tip toe through the maze to make life tolerable while leaving the gates of heaven slightly open.
I would like to thank Annamora for her wonderful painting with encapsulates the essence of the poem it was one of the nicest gift I ever got.

Comments

  • LisaMM
    LisaMMover 3 years ago

    Wow, what a beautiful journey. The imagery you created is so lush, rich, bursting with life, the aromas I could smell, the food I could taste. A beautifully tender and sensuous write. I just loved it.

  • Thank you i played with this idea in my head all day and wrote it straight
    in 30 mins onto redbubble have put at few re-edits since you first visited so
    call again 4 second read

    – timbuckley

  • SimplyRed
    SimplyRedover 3 years ago

    this is so beautiful…

  • Thank you so much read again as have made few edits since first visit

    – timbuckley

  • sandra .
    sandra .over 3 years ago

    What an exceptional write Tim, a strange maybe, but wonderful affair
    Lovely share
    sandra

  • from the land of the imagination all things are possible

    – timbuckley

  • timbuckley
    timbuckleyover 3 years ago

    This is life somewhere between the heady mix of loneliness, love, commitment, marriage, vows, real love, catholic guilt and sin and the compromises one makes unselfishly to cut a deal with God to tip toe through the maze to make life tolerable while leaving the gates of heaven slightly open. Hepburn and Cagney loved and lived with this unconsummated love this is the every day I was trying to get across

  • SimplyRed
    SimplyRedover 3 years ago

    well you did it superbly xx

  • Lisa  Jewell
    Lisa Jewellover 3 years ago

    A soothing and eloquent piece, so utterly mesmerizing and altogether so real, it play out before my eyes like a black and white movie or perhaps I was travelling on the Orient Express and yes…easily excused.

  • Thank you so much, a few more re-edits since you last visited so call back
    for another read

    – timbuckley

  • AnniG
    AnniGover 3 years ago

    A truly exquisite, sensual write…every line captured my imagination, sent me on a visual journey.
    There is no way of really understanding the affairs of the heart…it simply IS the way it is…beautiful. Embrace it while it lasts!

  • timbuckley
    timbuckleyover 3 years ago

    Is it a poem or is it prose written in a funny way? or does it matter? pls comment

  • jewd barclay
    jewd barclayover 3 years ago

    No it doesn’t matter what category, it is wonderfully rich story telling and so unrequited and unconditional…beautiful read Tim…

  • The love is not unrequited as i see, it in fact the act of not giving all is the
    ultimate giving as they tread a delicate path between married love and children
    and the commitment that brings, weighed up against the unexpected love they
    have foreach other, neither wants to muddy the waters of their friendship by asking
    the other leave a family, the’ve perhaps naively worked out a loving coded
    compromise.

    – timbuckley

  • timbuckley
    timbuckleyover 3 years ago

    love some image ideas for this and other pieces so any of you redbubble people that feel inspired go paint photograph photoshop and share thanks

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