Come up
and see me sometime
she'd joke
knowing she lived
on the ground floor
and that seeing her
was never enough
for even that
short journey
I can offer you
coffee
and coffee cake
and maybe some fruit
you like fruit
don't ya?
Huh?
You know, fruit?
And she'd smile
that smile of hers
the kind of smile
to launch or sink
a whole lot of ships
and seamen too I guess
her coffee making skills
were OK
and the coffee cake
was fine in a dry kind
of crumbly way
but the fruit
well now that
was something else
and you had to be
in the mood
for the fruit
I mean there it was
laid out for you
ready for you
to indulge
get stuck in there boy
don't let it go soft
and she'd laugh
like she did
if I was kind of
getting to her
when we shared a bath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem