Sex In The End. Poem by Terry Collett

It all boiled down to sex in the end,
She thought, after the gifts and flowers
And the cards sent and the romantic words,
And the showing of affection, and the quick
Introduction to the parents, and the talk
Of marriage and kids and the nice home,
With the right sort of neighbours, and his
Job secure and the money in the bank;
Yet, late at night, when the moon pushed
Itself through the window, showing his eyes
Closed, and his love machine thrusting in
And out of her, she realized then, counting
The stars on the ceiling, it was about sex
Not about love, concern, giving, or feeling.