YOUNG MEN WILL COME.

A WOMAN AND HER LOST YOUTH.

The young men will come
And go but they’ll not look

At me twice anymore said
Mrs Brassoff waiting for her

Husband to descend the lift
In the small hotel smoking

A cigarette wondering if the
Days of saving herself up for

Her husband on their wedding
Night had been a worthwhile

Thing she could (she thinks now
Looking back) have had a good old

Fling have pushed out a few boats
Have set off for Paris or Rome or

Florence and painted the town red
Or blue or pink or green and have

Danced naked at some private club
Have played trumpet for a solo or

Two have slept with a few others
Before the wedding night which

Had been a letdown not what she
Had been led to believe it would be

All over before her thighs got warm
And the lights stayed out and the bed

Got cold and as she draws slowly on
The cigarette now gazing at the passing

Crowds the undone the being done and
The waiting to be done she reflects on

The ticking tocking of the clock of her
Body’s wreck and the whole episode

Of treading water and time thinking
That waiting with her pure virginity

Intact had been a sexual waste and
Loss of her youth and beauty a crime.

Reviews

[Angel Bird]

Yes life can go this way around too.

My mother always used to say "The way you make your bed, is the way you're gonna sleep..."

- but who's to know how the wonderful new sheets are gonna feel after some nights in them?

Very thought provoking and touching poem.