Saturday, April 10, 2010

somewhere in the middle of life

she's careless
with her kisses,
gives out her number
and opens her door
for just about
anyone handsome
or bright, or with
a hint of mischief
and imagination
lurking within,
but it's not
what you think.
she's a romantic
at heart, not
easy, just someone
who wants and needs
love and doesn't
quite know how
to be patient,
to wait, and play
the game straight
up with the proper
amount of dates
before falling into
bed. but at fifty,
who can blame her.
certainly not me.

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