ã Copyright 2002 Mark Talacko

The bed is cold

Lonely is the night

When do things warm up?

She comes at first light

When the men have gone home

To their wives and families

When the streets are empty

With no one left to please

She treads softly

So as not to wake me

Takes off her shoes

And undresses with care

For the first time that night

I hear the shower

Smell the water hot

Her warm skin

Lying next to me

Is all I have

I roll to face her

Open my eyes

See her tears

And kiss her lips

She’s limp in my arms

And falls asleep like a child

The love in our embrace

Is the love that people write about

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