She Keeps on Writing


Glamorous at thirty-four, she was young,

flippant and free.  You’d never guess she was

a single mother of rambunctious boys –

two charmers – their father’s eyes and her smile –

a dangerous combination for life.


Slipped into silk, or satin or black lace,

green eyes sparkling, she took on the world,

her imagination the written word.

She danced beneath the moon, believed in love,

friendship wrapped with passion and desire,

and a dash of lust for late night romance.


Attractive at forty-five, in her dreams

excitement exists, life holds promises

yet to be found with opportunities

undiscovered – so she keeps on writing…






Everyday Things


I want you to reach out – touch me softly

demonstrate your desire to have me;

body and mind mesmerized by passion

you can’t control – it doesn’t have to be

all-consuming, forever and ever,

just for the instant, when you see me there

in front of you, doing everyday things.


I need you to show me – you can tell too –

if deep inside excitement simmers, hot

feelings you can acknowledge, once secret

and kept from me, ready now to explode.

Private thoughts don’t need to be so private,

we need only whisper them as lovers

exchanging hopes, dreams, passion, desire.