I WAS ME

While I lay like a drunken clown
And the fresh light of early morning
Seeped through the large bay window
Cutting shafts in the dismal gloom,
Spreading dappled patterns all around
The 'L' shaped room
She, with the confident elegance of an Avon swan,
Glided towards my sofa-bed,
With its crisp white pillow and turnedback sheet.
She, who only a few short hours ago,
Had been the sort of sweet,
'Girl next door' sort of girl,
Was now, in the full splendour of her naked beauty,
Relegating me to a trembling schoolboy.
For all I could do was nurse my beer-raged head
And attempt to comprehend that this;
This, our very first time,
Should be such bliss:
No fumbling, groping in the dark
In the back of some old car,
Or stolen moments in the park.
This was it
As it should be.
She was she,
And I was me.

?Copyright Paul Holmes 2001