Sunday, September 5, 2010

The Wait


I waited long my lovely
On that summer's night
All neat and smart and longing
For your presence to light
My fire, my passion
And promise you my life.

I waited long my princess
As the air turned chill
My plans went all asunder
And much against my will
wept some tears of doubt
that you would be my wife.

I waited what seemed like ever
the gifts I held seemed poor
Could I lose my precious who
to me meant so much more
Sadly I left that place
And trod my way back home

You didn't ring to tell me why
Or even write a letter
I lost you that summer's eve
To a man who was surely better
But as the past is past
I think I'll ring young Cindy

Postcard "The Flirt" by Boileau in writer's possesion

8 comments:

  1. been there, sorry to say. your poem created what it is supposed to do...feelings. nice writing

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  2. I enjoyed the antique feel and the pathos thrown aside by "young Cindy" gave me a chuckle.

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  3. I love the new look Old Egg - and the poem (I don't recall you writing a poem for a long while)..I enjoyed this..I wondered how it would go - sad or humourous..I am glad it was the latter..made me smile..Jae :)

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  4. Cindy is just a filler. So I feel for her. Your poem tricks us into feeling sorry for you, but clearly you are the flirt.

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  5. oh you are a stinker :) - loved this and I'm glad there was a Cindy and not a broken heart!

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  6. What a fickle egg! .. I loved it :o)

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  7. I like the way you did this. At first I thought poor bloke then, well that's the ticket. Get back up, dust yourself off and get back on the treadmill.Nothing wrong with doing that.

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