Poetry by Jeff Green


Waiting at the window

by cricketjeff on July 3, 2009.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Now she’s waiting at the window, just until his hand comes home,
With her bottom ready showing like a perfect light brown dome.
And she’s dreaming that she’s feeling him with six upon each cheek;
She’ll be gasping and then sighing but she’s not supposed to speak.

Now she’s waiting and she’s dreaming that she’ll feel the steady beat
As his hand starts raising passion and she’s writhing in the heat,
After twelve, or maybe twenty, she’ll be ready for the rest –
As they’re rolling on the carpet and she passes every test.

Now she’s waiting, getting hotter, and she hears him at the door.
While her fingers are exploring hoping there’ll be so much more.
Then he’s with her, speaking sternly, and she’s blushing, perfect pink.
As her bottom starts to tremble and her mind decides to think.

After two she sighs quite softly, after four she’s getting loud,
After six her legs are parted, but she’s very far from cowed.
Now her arms are round his shoulders and she’s screaming out his name,
No more waiting at the window for her very favourite game!