Sunday, 5 September 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


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

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

  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 :)

  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.

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

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

  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.