Mrs S buttered bread with her deft touch
A sufficiency for lunch, never too much.
Mrs S chatted as she tidied the tidy place
Every move full of style, economy, grace,
Moving around her kitchen so unaware
That I sat squirming in my kitchen chair,
Not wanting to betray her friendship's trust
By disclosing any sign of my constant lust.
Mrs S so sweet and kind
Unknowing plays
Such tricks with my mind
Mrs S smiled and passed across my cup of tea
Serenely standing there so close to me;
And I smiled and forced my thoughts to end
For Mrs S thinks of me just as an old friend.
My tea is finished and I prepared to go
Once again Mrs S didn't know
Just how much she'd set me on fire
With that constant smouldering slow desire.