I Couldn’t See

 

It was a strange conversation

Almost spoken out loud

To someone I couldn’t see,

But the way that he gestured

And looked far away

You could tell it was spiritual,

Sexual, about loneliness,

Horniness and everything

Under the sun about a man

And a woman I couldn’t see,

I heard the words too special,

Camping, lawns and knees,

Words that added to the intrigue

Without filling in the blanks,

Words that left you wondering

Why in the hell they didn’t try

To get it on, then a thought

Floated in, perhaps, just maybe

He was a monk talking

To a nun or a lady out of reach,

Some gorgeous Goddess

 I couldn’t see.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

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