She Wants To Be Adored Poem by Oke Christopher

I watched from the stairs of my home
As she brushed her hair with a glassy comb.
It's Saturday night and the speakers are singing,
The cars are rushing by, urged by the men they are bringing.
It's Saturday night and the booze is plenty,
Before her date tonight, four bottles are already empty.
Leering lecherously, he pulled her close,
He showed her the pills and she took one dose
He snorted loudly and licked her face,
He called her sexy and they went to her place.
He awoke a little before quarter to four,
Hurriedly and harriedly drove off in his Crosstour.
It's Sunday morning and Episcopal bells are ringing,
She's in the front row, 'Hail Hosanna' singing.
'Be as sister Grace' was the petit priest's reprise,
'As chaste, hardworking and not wanting a prize.'
She smiled and waved,
'Hallelujah, be like her, be saved'.
I shall never understand women said I once, my ire astir,
They know not what they want, their reasoning and conscience beyond repair.
That was after my third love went overboard...
Now I think I know she just wants to be adored.