Their midweek affair, urbane and regular,
Conducted with care in the convivial
Surroundings of the anonymous motel,
Gave Bald Cyril and Bashful Flora
Just the right balance of pleasure and danger.
Their regular pit-stop of illicit pleasure
To the piped music of the manic motorway
Was to massage the soul and stale conjugal duties,
They supposed, creating a righteous furrow
To seed their legal endeavours
With vigour renewed. But that was yesterday,
Or more precisely the previous Wednesday.
Today, our Bashful Flora was feeling some unrest,
The tightening of her bra across her chest,
A rebellious waist swelling in unison.
What was this? Sedition? As she mused on Cyril's pate
Sparkling in the sunlight and looking like
That huge Supermarket melon, pale yellow too,
She'd bought the other day, now in her lap!
This wasn't right, humour creeping into their hallowed affair.
But it crept and crept into her lips and eyes.
It took her by surprise as it travelled at alarming speed
Through arms and legs and belly and to her very soul,
Shaking her beyond control, into a bouncing balloon
Of hysterics! I am told the scene was fortified
By Cyril's shocked indignant postures, signalling
The final fall of these brief encounters!
And what a story you have weaved indeed, give food to the imagination lol
It's pure imagination. For one thing I've a great and very unruly mop of hair! I hope you and Jude had a lovely day yesterday and bought loads of goodies!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your commanding attention to detail has created quite the large peep-hole here, allowing the reader a glimpse into a scene from which, other than for your vivid and engaging tale-telling, he might otherwise immediately turn away. But alas, you have captured the poor reader's attention and he must know the fate of Cyril's bald pate beyond its immediate situation upon Bashful Flora's now convulsing lap.
I think she gave his Bald pate a sympathetic pat but sent him back permanently to his doting wife! The spell was broken through no fault of his. It was the melon to blame!