Musings by The Poet Loriet

Two Weeks

I'm going to miss
my nights at The Pub,
coming there every night,
getting free drinks,
watching the people
as you banter with them,
hearing your laughter,
the comraderie with your workers,
with all your different customers.
They all love you.
It's evident that you are special,
but you always come back
to flirt and talk with me.

I'm going to miss
the times we sneak into
a corner booth
after the restaurant side is closed,
turn out the lights and hold hands,
leaning across the table to
look in each others eyes,
steal soft kisses,
make plans for all the things
we want to do together,
but most of all...

I'll miss the way you get me home safe
when I've had too many drinks,
take my clothes off, put my pajamas on,
and tuck me into bed--
nothing sexual, just you taking care of me,
and it feels so nice.

You turn out my lights,
lock my doors,
kiss me goodnight,
and I sleep like a baby,
feeling cherished.

Our two weeks are almost up,
but at least I'll keep the memories,
and hope that someday,
we can tuck each other in
every single night.

I'll miss you, baby.
Your presence in my life
soothes my jagged soul,
brings me sweet comfort,
and makes my heart sing
new melodies
that have never before been composed.



Lori Beal


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Two Weeks

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