Welcome to My Poetry Site
The diary blushed again
The diary has continued to accumulate, it holds
A record of a man's love for a beautiful woman
And his unstinting efforts to both keep and to
She drove him to distraction, she drove his
Senses wild, she walked around the house
In less than might be dignified. His head was
On swivel, where next, the next surprise, he
Didn’t have to wait too long, ‘my God, that
Dress is tight.’
Dairy's feeling sad again today, no entry for
Some time now, cold hand on the cover, cold
Hand on the pen, but wait, suddenly a surprising
Entry that puzzled the diary immensely.
Sometimes love all too readily evaporates, only
To be recalled or come into sharp focus later,
When perhaps loneliness strikes the heart and
Through the gloom we fondly look back to better
More affectionate times.
A strange passage thought the diary but then he
Hasn't been himself for a while now… interrupting
This chain of thought the diary unexpectedly opened
And the first entry for ten days or more proved to
Be in a warmer lighter more delicate hand.
Dear diary, I am at a loss to understand this illness
Only got back today and the malady seems to
Be worse than before I left...
The diary momentarily convulsed and once again
Spun its pages in shock and pain. 'You're a woman'
It began, 'Don't you know what's wrong with him
Can't you see?' 'Why just looking at him laying
There, I'd say the boy's love sick and lower than
A coal miner's Davy lamp'.
Turning to look at the bed she saw for the first time
What the diary saw, he was literally pining away,
Love sick up to the gunwales. He'd missed her so
Much, missed meals, moped about until exhausted,
And now he didn't have the strength to lift a cup of
Bouillon to his lips.
Deflated she tip-toed over to the bed and sitting on the
Edge felt his hand searching for hers and finding it
Brought it to his lips whispering: 'While you were away
I wrote a love note in my diary for you, if you'd care to
Look,' whereupon she reached for the leather bound
Book and springing the clasp read as follows:
In your absence I have yearned for the folds of your
Love, tempting, tormenting, flavoured with the sweet
Dew of fulfilment, soft liquid centre, sweet in the
Only way your love can be. When I am with you I
Am complete and held for a lifetime every time,
Never wanting to leave, always begging to stay.
Here she was, in explosive form, having not
Seen him for weeks and there he was, totally
Incapacitated and weakened by her absence.
Back at the diary he went on: 'There is no place
On this earth for me any more, darkness beckons
And an end to this pain would be preferable to
Living without you.'
Clearly something needed to be done and fast
Something womanly - a restorative of some kind
Perhaps, but what?
Thinking on her feet, she propped him up in bed
Urging 'wait there' and left the room.
Half an hour later the bedroom filled with a mouth
Watering aroma and opening his eyes, there the love
Of his life, standing absolutely naked holding a
Steaming polystyrene beaker of hot nourishing liquid.
'Which is it to be' she tempted, 'me or the chicken
At which point the diary turned red and fell off the
© Joseph G Dawson